


Death Do Us Part

by Twisted94



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Blood, D&D, Demons, F/M, Funny, Grog being dumb, Lust, Monsters, Rage, Romance, Sex, Violence, marragie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-03-17 19:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18971452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted94/pseuds/Twisted94
Summary: This is by far the DUMBEST thing he has ever done. And Grog Strongjaw has done some DUMB things in the past...But this....this was a new, stupid record!He doesn’t remember doing it! He doesn’t know this person!How do you marry someone you don’t know!?Ahhh! Pike is gonna kill him!





	1. Chapter 1

A crisp early morning surrounds the great town of Whitestone, the chilly air and melting snow is refreshing and energising to all who live there. The surrounding woods are quiet as hunters venture out into its’ lush depths in hopes of capturing their waking prey. Farmers begin their morning with that slowly rising sun on the horizon, setting out to their renewed fields to begin yet another long day of labor. The same it would seem applies to the beautiful and ever stoic Whitestone Castle, dozens of servants arise to begin their day in service to the De Rolo family once more. Food is cooked, the delicious smell of meat begins to fill the white polished halls invitingly. Rooms are dusted, flowers replaced and laundry is collected and seen too out of sight. The Pale Guard change shift with the rise of the sun, like a well tuned clock they rotate with little issue; the previous night bringing no dangers or conflict. 

Vex’ahlia awakes with the dawn, her inner hunter is acutely aware that with morning comes a new hunt. Daylight was burning away and it was time to get going.

With a tired yawn and a hard stretch she sits on the edge of her large, warm bed and without a sidelong glance she knows Percy is not sleeping next to her. No doubt another late night in his workshop. She smiles at the thought, his tired face covered in soot and drool; his glasses resting on an angle on that handsome face, his white hair a mess. Oh how she adored him so. 

Trinket stirs with a deep rumbling yawn, the great bear stretching out and shaking awake by her bedside. He looks up at her with wide, dopey eyes and Vex feels her heart melt. 

“Aww hello buddy!” She scratches him on the head as she strides across the room, throwing on a simple morning gown of white and blue. She braids her hair lightly and washes her face as Trinket nuzzles her hip lovingly in the search for more scratches. Vex smiles warmly. “You look hungry buddy! Do you want some breakfast?” 

The large bear whines in response and she laughs, hugging her best friend before opening the bedroom door. Trinket takes the lead happily, squeezing through the doorframe and taking to the hallway to find the source of that lovely bacon smell. The dark haired ranger follows close behind, her schedule was quite open today it would seem and she was excited at the idea of perhaps having an adventure! It had been the better part of a uneventful year since Vox Machina had split to go their separate ways. With still no hide or hair of Scanlan and her brother living it up with Keyleth and the other druids; adventure was a distant dream these days. Not that she was complaining, of course not! Living a fancy restful life in Whitestone, as a Baroness and a troubled husband by her side was perfectly wonderful. Tary was often around to keep her company with the new bakery, Pike visited often as well as Grog! If anything she was quite content, whether that was a good thing she did not know, after all it was that feeling of contentment that made her uneasy. She was getting fat and soft, her armour was collecting dust. Practicing with her bow was not the same as the thrill of a good, life threatening fight with a mighty beast that wants you dead. Grog himself continues to fight and rage his way through these past 12 months, taking long trips across the land to satisfy his bloodlust and need for adventure. He had returned to Whitestone only 3 weeks ago to visit, gracing the halls of the great castle with his enormous personality. Comforting, if not exhausting. 

The large wooden door to her right opens suddenly as those thoughts cross her mind and said grey skinned, half giant emerges with a mighty yawn. Grog takes a deep sniff and like her bear, begins to salivate at the idea of a hot fresh breakfast. 

“Good morning Grog. You’re up early today, any plans?” Vex pats his muscular, tattooed arm as she walks by, Trinket galloping ahead of her. The large Goliath gives her a toothy grin and falls into stride beside her, scratching his dark beard.

“Bidet Vex!” He thinks hard for a moment. “Nah....kinda? I got a full day off showing peoples around today, I’m a very needed person now that the Grand Poobah has returned...” 

“Oh really? How exciting.” A grin curls across the rangers lips, the sarcasm in her voice was playful but wasted on one such as Grog, whom holds himself with an air of childlike grace and self importance. They walk together in comfortable silence, eager to start their day off with a full belly. 

The sounds of slightly hushed voices arguing catches her half elvish ears first, it drifts down the halls and her curiosity is peeked.The two emerge into the grand entrance way, the central heart of Whitestone castle that connects to most corridors and rooms. There stands Cassandra, her poised self dressed in fine morning red robs, her brown curled hair was down and casual with its familiar shock of white. She stands in mid conversation with what looks to be a fairly high ranking soldier from her Pale Guard. The guard himself stands with another of his station; adorned in identical armour. They are both followedby a young, golden haired elf woman whom looks completely bewildered by the castles interior decor. 

“I’m sorry, but this is unacceptable.” Cassandra sounds tired and frustrated at the intrusion, she rubs her face and her dark ringed eyes land on Vex as the three exit the hall. “Ah Lady Vex’ahlia! Perhaps you are more available to explain that dawn is not an agreeable time to be demanding requests of me.” She waves the ranger over as Trinket and Grog push past the commotion toward the nearby dining hall, the tantalising smell of breakfast too strong to resist. Vex feels herself wilt under this young woman’s gaze but steels her nerves and strides to her side, arms crossed. 

“Good morning darling. Now.” She stares at the two guards in question, eyebrow cocked curiously. “What seems to be the issue?” 

The sound of dishes moving and clinking can be heard in the distant dining hall down the corridor as Trinket and Grog get to work devouring their morning meal.

The Pale Guard adorned in captains armour swallows and gestures to the timid dirty faced elvish lass in his wake. “Ahh sorry to disturb you too Lady Vex’ahlia. And yourself Lady Cassandra.” He begins apologetically, clearing his throat and standing tall. “This young lady was spotted wondering on the edges of town, she is not a citizen of Whitestone and she has asked at length to be taken to see you in the castle. Normally we would take care of it but she says it is important.” He is struggling to maintain steady eye contact with them both.

Vex gives him a queer look before eyeing the mysterious woman in question. She did not recognise her at all. Slim elvish features and lithe frame adorned in rough, patchwork robes of fur and cloth. She was dirty, blond hair long and unkempt with small braids that dot its mass. Bare feet that were blackened from travel and eyes that were icy blue and shy; this woman was not a fighter in any sense, the way she presented herself and her overall physical presentation was not in the least bit threatening. 

“She asked to see...me? What for?” Vex’ahlia addresses the guard but stares past him at this new face curiously, brow furrowed to match Cassandra’s by her side. The guard nods and steps back to push this particular woman forward to speak, to explain herself. 

There is a moment of expectant silence as the small elf figure fiddles with the frayed hem of her dirty sleeve nervously before speaking. 

“Not you madam. I’m sorry.” This strangers voice was quiet and wobbly with anxiety, eyes downcast out of fear and respect. Both ladies brows furrow deeper then before as the loud sound of shuffling down the halls catches everyone’s attention and Grog appears once more, plate in hand and chewing on hot bacon. The barbarian takes in the new scene with curiosity, waiting to see what unfolds; just as a familiar white haired gunslinger, face heavy with sleep and soot appears by his side. Percy looks between his sister, his wife and his guard with a curious expression directed to Grog in the hopes of a summary on the current situation arising in his home foyer. He gets only a confused glance back from his large friend, followed by a heavy shouldered shrug. Of course, why he bothered to ask Grog was beyond even him. He thinks to perhaps state his arrival but before he can interject, his dark haired ranger is already on the case.

“I’m sorry dear, forgive me, I’m confused. If you are not here to see myself or Lady Cassandra, who are you here to talk to?”

The golden, dirty haired elf points sheepishly past them and both turn to follow her attention as it lands on their massive, grey skinned barbarian. 

“Grog? You came to see Grog?” Cassandra asks and the woman replies with a small nod.

“Y-yes my Lady.....I have traveled here from quite far....” 

All 6 pairs of eyes focus in on him and Grog feels himself wilt slightly at the sudden intense attention, he chews his meal quickly now before swallowing and shrugging defensively. “Wot?” 

“Why Grog?” Percy adds curiously, and Vex echos him, uncrossing her arms in favour of resting them on her hips. An expression of a woman about to be angry and preparing herself for bad news, like a parent about to scold a naughty child. 

“Yes darling. Why are you here to see Grog?” She encourages kindly, eyes trained and narrowed on the barbarian in question dangerously. Grog swallows hard, he is very confused.

The elven woman’s face creeps into the ghost of a shy smile, her eyes are locked with and unmoving from Grogs’, cheeks pinkish in hue.

“Well you see....I’m his wife, I’m Mrs Strongjaw.” 

Stunned silence fills the grand entryway, all eyes wide and jaws agape as everyone stares at the tiny elf and then to Goliath in absolute speechlessness. 

Grog is very confused. 


	2. Chapter 2

“WHAT. DID. YOU. DO!?” Vex’ahlia slaps that muscular, grey skinned arm over and over, face twisted in absolute fury and bewildered confusion. This was outrageous! She knew Grog was an idiot some times but this really takes the cake! 

They had since moved to the dinning hall, the shock of the last 10 minutes having died down enough for Percival to dismiss the guard and to take this new mysterious woman with them to eat and figure out just what the devil was going on!

“Ow! Ow! That hurts!” The grey skinned Goliath pulls his assaulted appendage away, rubbing it like a child. He is confused, so very confused. He had no idea who this lady was or why Vex and Percy were so mad at him! They gather around the dining hall table, most standing but Cassandra and this wild haired elvish lass. Cassandra sips lightly from her teacup, eyeing this new face from over the porcelain lip and waiting patiently for answers while her brother try’s to calm his upset Ranger. Vex is pacing now like a wild animal, her mind racing as she tries still to put this all together. It was madness! She had to be lying! 

“Grog Strongjaw! You had better start explaining yourself! Oh I am so mad at you! This is so irresponsible!” Vex is cross armed and comes to stand next to her husband, who is as equally cross armed but not nearly as mad. 

“I dunno what’s happening Vex, I swear!” Grog’s massive body has shrunk under her steely gaze, voice pleading and bearded face alight with confusion. “I don’t know who she is.” He points across the large table at the small blond woman in question accusingly, she is eating off a plate of bacon hungrily, starved from her journey but she falters at his harsh tone. Vex narrows her hunters eyes at this idiot of a barbarian before she turns to this dirty young lady, face softening immensely as she pulls up a dining chair and sits beside her. 

“Darling. My name is Vex’ahalia, this is Percival, Cassandra and I’m sure you know Grog.” She gestures to each before reaching for this young woman’s thin, delicate hand supportively. “What is your name, dear?”

The small elvish woman looks between the 4 people around her nervously, looking over to Grog last of all before staring down at her own hand in this strangers grip. Vex can feel her pulse in her thin wrist, it is slow despite her timid, shy exterior. 

Percy steps forward, placing a hand on his wife’s chair supportively. “Everything is ok my dear, you are in Whitestone and are incredibly safe with us. We just want to understand what is going on, as I’m sure you understand that we are quite shocked to find out our dear dear friend Grog had gotten married.” He gives her his best De Rolo smile. The mystery woman stares at him for a moment before nodding slowly, tucking a thick lock of blond hair behind her pointed ear and sitting up a little straighter in her chair. 

“M...my name is Yvette Strongjaw, of the Barron-Boar Tribe...” Her voice was tiny but she was confidence in her conviction. Vex takes note of the way Yvette’s fingers trace her dirty cheek and her blue eyes flicker over to gaze upon Grog when she mentions his second name, “Strongjaw”. It was for but a short, fleeting moment but the way she smiles with the edge of her quivering lip made Vex believe, deep down in her heart that this woman did believe she was married to their Goliath friend. She knew the smile of a newly married woman all too well...but still, Grog? Really? 

“Well...Yvette, I’m afraid I have not heard of the Barron-Boar Tribe, please do tell me, where does your Tribe hail from? Where are you located?” Cassandra asks politely, sipping her tea as her brother makes notes in his head; no doubt to research later in their library. 

The thin, timid elf stares at Grog a moment longer before turning to stare at her well dressed, elegantly poised host. “Uh.....my..my tribe is all over the place, we travel. But when I left to find my husband we were up Westruun way, beyond the Bramblewoodjust south of the Gatshadow mountains....we are only small....just hunters and gathers mainly.” Cassandra nods politely, gesturing with a wave of a hand towards Grog, sipping her tea. 

“You’ve traveled past Gatshadow in recent months I believe, yes?” She asks and Grog shrugs heavily, scratching his beard. 

“Yeah, so wot? I travel lots o places when I’m...traveling. I fight lots o things too, doesn’t mean I remember them all. I can tell ya though that I didn’t get married, I barely know you.” He stares at this tiny, pathetic looking woman with confusion and distain, crossing his arms and standing at his full Goliath height. He did not know her, he barley remembers meeting her. “Besides, if I did I wouldn’t marry you. You’re little and weak. You are a pathetic mate.”

“Grog!” Vex cuts him off, her voice stern, eyes narrowed. “Don’t be rude!” 

“I’M NOT!” Grog booms back angrily, pointing a sharp, accusing finger at their guest. “I’M NOT MARRIED TO HER VEX! I DON’T KNOW HER! I WOULD NEVERMARRY HER!”He is just so mad and confused! Everyone was angry with him all of a sudden! He did not marry or mate with this lady, he would never do that, not without inviting his best buddy Pike to the wedding! He liked big beefy strong ladies like Kima or Trish, this person was weak and useless looking! Why did no one believe him!? He just wanted to hit something, hard!!

“GROG!” Vex shouts back angrily but their Barbarian Goliath is already turning on his heels and stomping away loudly, cursing and hitting things as he goes. 

“Idiot!” Vex hisses after him, infuriated by his stupidity. This was serious, how could his stupid brain not realise this!? 

Yvette pulls her hand away from Vexs’ and buries them in her rag covered lap, her large elvish eyes wide and glassy with hurt as she lowered her head to stare at them, stray locks of blond hair falling to cover her dirty face. “I......I’m sorry....” It is barley a whisper. “I shouldn’t have come here.......I wouldn’t have come here if I could....” 

There is a moment of silence that settles in the space between them and it is heavy and awkward. Neither could bring themselves to speak, not without sounding disingenuous or downright furious. 

Finally, Percy clears his throat and straighten up with regal grace, drawing all eyes to him. He was ever a beacon of class and optimism, in a strange twisted way; at least he was in Scanlan and Keyleth’s current absence.

“Well now, I believe it would be prudent to at least give you a warm bath and a place to sleep after your long travel. Please, feel free to stay at Whitestone castle until we have sorted this mess out.” He gives her a short, polite bow before striding out of the dining hall after Grog. Mind racing with possible ideas and solutions to this new, interestingly and absolutely amusing puzzle.

“I’m so sorry dear, Grog didn’t mean that I’m sure.” Vex comforts her after watching Percy leave and Yvette nods, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. 

“Come, I’ll have servants escort you to a prepared room.” Cassandra waves her hand and a single attentive halfling maid appears at the dining hall entrance patiently. Vex helps Yvette stand and the two begin to follow the maid down to the guest quarters. 

Cassandra orders another tea, it was far too early for this madness.

 

“We will sort this out, Yvette. I promise you darling. Please be patient, I’m sure Grog just needs time.” They have walked quite a ways to the opposite guest wing of Whitestone Castle, the servant had dipped inside to ready the room, leaving the pair of them standing in the cold hallway together. Yvette says nothing, she plays with her filthy, frayed sleeve quietly and the dark haired Ranger feels a sense of second hand heartbreak. Did she trust this woman?, no, absolutely not, they had been burnt too many times in the past. Did she believe her, did she believe that this woman believes she is married to one Grog Strongjaw? Yes, it was evident in the blonds speech and slight movements. Yvette was in love, she was scared and nervous but she was in love. Why else would she travel months by bare foot to find Grog!? Grog!

So for now she would believe her and give her the politeness any stranger deserves, but she was wary and on guard nonetheless. It was who she was.

Vex bites her lip before putting on bright smile and grabbing the blond’s hands once more. “Oh I know dear! Why don’t you tell me how you met Grog? While we wait?” 

Yvette looks up at the taller half elf woman and goes pink in the cheeks, the kind woman laughs playfully. “Uhhh...um....o..ok.” Voice timid and tiny the dirty elf begins to recap a tale of a grey skinned half giant that saved her from a monstrous bloodthirsty Basilisk on the edge of a snowy mountain. How she had been looking for medicinal herbs to bring back to her tribe in the snow covered mountain tops when an unexpected blizzard began to form and she was ambushed by this hideous creature. Vex listens as she tells of how Grog appeared from the sleeting snow and wind to fight off this monster and save her life. How he scooped up her injured body over one muscular shoulder and carried her to a cave shelter he had cleared out and laid her down on his bed scroll where he popped her dislocated knee back into place. Yvette was smiling ever so slightly as she spoke of how this large barbarian shared his rations with her and in return she mixed a salve from her found herbs the healed a gash wound left by the terrible fight. He shared his favourite ale with her and stories of where he had been and how he was heading to his home in Whitestone; honoured, she gifted him a hand made poison to use in battle. They then fell asleep side by side as they waited for the blizzard to pass them by. She awoke in the morning sunlight to find him gone so she returned to her tribe and prepared to set out after him, a now married woman. 

Vex listened to her tale, enthralled by its romantic beauty. Was this really their Grog!? She felt a ping of guilt for getting mad at him now, the more she listened, the more she realised no real marriage had actually taken place! 

Vex gives her a smile as the servant reappears in the hall, letting those tiny wrists go she watches as Yvette reaches for the door. “I’ll let you setting in, please rest dear, I’ll be back to collect you at tea time.” 

The blond, dirty elvish woman nods quietly. “Yes, thank you Vex.” The door shuts quietly and Vex turns on her heels and begins backtracking down the hall to seek out her husband, they need to get to the bottom of this! She is sure to set guards on Yvette’s room, just to be sure, you can never be too careful.

...

The half elf Ranger finds her Gunslinger and her bear in the Whitestone library, Percy sits cross legged on the stone floor, surrounded by thick tomes, dozens of scrolls and reading feverishly. Tary sits by his side, dressed in his sleeping robes and taking notes excitedly on parchment, Doty sits behind him brushing his hair gently.

“Can you believe this!? What a way to start a morning!” Vex groans, sinking across Trinket’s back and letting his soft fur melt away her stress. She looks up at Tary who is just delighted by this whole scandal, no doubt having been woken by Percy for help. 

“It’s outrageous! How is our large friend?” The golden haired man asks curiously, leaning into Doty so the sides of his fringe gets brushed. Vex pouts, and shakes her head.

“I bet he’s confused, I know I am!” She states, eyebrows farrowed. “I spoke with Yvette about it and now I’m doubting if Grog married her too! Percival darling, have you found anything?” 

Percy looks up from his book almost surprised by his name. “Ah, actually yes...I believe so.”

“Really?” Vex and Tary both ask at the same time, drawing curious glances to one another. The white haired tinkerer adjusts his glasses and smiles.

“Yes, actually. I found an old book about ancient traditions in Tal’Dorei and there’s a chapter about marriage rituals.” He flicks through a couple of crusty pages and reads out a few lines. “Marriage has long since been a sacred tradition in blah blah.....when a suitable mate appears they show their interest in an impressive act or display of strength. Then they show that they can provide for their intended mate. I suppose that means hunting and building a home?” 

“Typically, yes.” Tary agrees, taking the book from Percy’s grasp and continuing onwards. “If the intended mate finds all attempts worthy and the idea of marriage appealing, they will offer to exchange gifts as a sign of betrothal, interesting! The couple then spends the night side by side, finalising the marriage bond between them through bonding of flesh, ooohhhh!”

Percy takes the book from him once more. “The couple arise with the morning light, husband and wife. Bonded for eternity together through hardship and sickness. They share equal land and possessions, problems and victories until death seperates their bodies and they can reunite once more in the astral sea. Absolutely barbaric traditions but I can certainly see why Tribes would still use such things.” He closes the book and looks at the pair for a response, Vex was thinking hard and a Tary was just enthralled by it all. 

“Wait!” Vex sits up suddenly, shooting up straight in realisation, spooking Trinket slightly. “Wait! When Yvette was talking about their encounter, she didn’t say they had sex! She said they slept side by side!” She looks hopeful between the two smartest men she has ever known, they look at each other sceptically. Vex huffs but sits up straighter. “I mean it! I know it’s Grog but what if they didn’t have sex, like with the nymph?, that means they’re not technically married, right!?”

Percy scratches his head and thinks. “Uhh...well I suppose, technically yes. If they did in fact abstain from sexual inter course then yes, they wouldn’t really be married. They would still just be betrothed.” 

Vex stares at him expectantly and he sighs heavily and stands up,dusting himself off. Tary get up too, smiling. 

“Very well Vex’ahlia, my love. For you I will go and ask our Goliath Barbarian about his sexual history.” He sounded absolutely defeated and it was obvious it was the last thing he wanted to do. Ever. Vex gives him a wink and a smile.

“Thank you my love, you’re a treasure. And perhaps if it goes well, Grog won’t have to hand over half of his money, title and land to a woman we don’t know.” 

“Wouldn’t that be nice.” 

...

 

Yvette sits for a moment alone on the end of the large bed, it was plush and comfortable and so not what she was used to. Whitestone Castle was immense and daunting, the people that live in it even more so. She had made it, it took her months of lone, agonising walking to travel this far North on bare feet, but she was here. Fighting off creatures, avoiding bandits, thieves and rapists alike to make it here. But she had found Whitestone, she had found a Grog Strongjaw. The blond stares at the hot drawn bath awaiting her, a distasteful sneer creeping its way onto her lips as she looks down at her bare, blacked feet. Three of the toes where broken, she notices and with a flick of her head the bones crack and reform before her eyes, snapping sickening back into place. “Let’s just get this over with shall we?” Her voice is low, cold as she stands and begins to undress, unbuttoning her ragged robes and letting them slip off her thin shoulders to the floor in a dirty heap. Her reflection in the water as she peers inside the hot tub was that familiar weak and pathetic mortal elf wench staring back. Disgusting. 

“Don’t worry, my love.” She whispers to the reflection, running a pale delicate finger over the water, creating small ripples. “I’ll take good care of your husband and his friends.” 

That doe eyed, dirty reflection shifts slightly, only slightly in the disturbed waters surface and for the briefest of moments a wicked pair of horns dances like a crown upon that golden blond hair.

“I promise.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Grog’s knuckles were bleeding. Despite this, he continued to punch the wooden training dummies stupid face until it splintered and broke into pieces before him. He would then move on to the next and repeat the process, dark crimson and chipped wooden splinters mangled and disfigured his hands, but he did not care. He had faced death, felt that indescribable pain right before darkness and nothingness over took your vision. A few splinters did not faze him much at all, in fact the sting they brought to him with every hard punch was comforting and thrilling. Pain was easy to handle, the events that had unfolded today, were not. 

“Grog!” 

The dark bearded Goliath falters mid mighty swing and glances over his muscular shoulder at the white haired gunslinger walking towards him, Tary in tow....with Doty in tow. A conga line of nerds.

“Wot you want?” He huffs, voice annoyed as he stands tall and starts to pick chunks of bloody wood from his thick fingers. Tary looks disgusted but tries his best to keep his handsome face polite and friendly. It was really gross though...

“Grog my large friend! That’s revolting!” Tary states causally, trying his best to look everywhere but at that mangled mess. “We are here with great news!” 

Percy produces an old dark leather book from his pouch and opens it, flicking through the yellowed pages quickly to point at a chapter titled....something, it was a big collection of words with too many letters and Grog struggled. “But first, Grog we need to ask you a few questions about Yvette.”

“Who?” 

“The Elf woman you married.”

“Oh....” The large barbarian scratches his beard, leaving bloody streaks through the thick hair. “Ok....but I didn’t-

“Didn’t marry her, yes I am very aware of what you think you did or didn’t do Grog.” Percy states, rubbing his eyes and Grog is confused. He continues. “I’m here to figure that out, I need you to answer me honestly as you can, ok?” 

Grog nods slowly, anything to make everyone not mad at him anymore. 

“Question one!” Tary announces merrily, reading from over the other mans shoulder. “Did you display a great feat of strength or capability that was impressive enough to get her attention?” 

“Uhh.... I mean I think I’m impressive most of the time, have you looked at me?” Grog flexes with a broad, confident grin and both smaller men just stare, unimpressed. His grin falls away quickly and with a shrug of his massive shoulders and a huff, he mumbles are short. ”I dunno....I think I killed a monster or sumthin? I don’t remember.” 

“Hmmm...”

This was going to be a lot harder to navigate then they thought.

Tary gives him a curious look before nudging Percival in the side, Percy sighs heavily. Very well. It was a waste of time and far too much of a metal strain on poor Grog’s memory to go through each convoluted step process in the ancient and sacred Tal’Dorei traditions of marriage amongst Tribe culture; it would seem. But before they two men could continue the grey skinned half giant interjects with a farrowed brow of concern. Mighty stature meek like a naughty child, unsure of how to apologise.

“I....I’m not...really married, right?” He asks, eyes downcast and picking at his bloody knuckles a little more, they are bleeding freely now. “Like....I don’t want to be married...what am I gonna tell my best buddy Pike? I dun want her to be mad at me....like how Vex is mad at me.” 

“Vex is not mad at you, Grog.” Tary pauses. “Ok, she is mad at you but she is also concerned.” The blond, handsome artificer states, hands on hips in a way that is far to similar to a certain half elf. “You have to understand my mighty friend, if you are indeed married to this mystery woman, you will need to give her half of all your things! Land! Money! Titles! Ale! Marriage is quite troublesome.” 

Grog looks concerned, in more ways then one. His ale!? 

“Speak for yourself, now Grog, I do regret asking you this, but please. I will need a straight answer, it is imperative that you tell the whole truth.” Percy interjects before their barbarian friend slips into a self contained freak out spiral, which my the look of absolute strain on his face, was very close. 

“Impera-wot?”

Aw geez. 

Percy sighs.“Grog, did you have sex with Yvette, the elf lady?” Blunt and crass, but to the point. 

The half giant looks scandalised, taken aback by his gunslinger friends total out of the blue question, his bloody hand on his scared chest in a look of mock confusion and shock. Oh please, it’s blood a Grog for heavens sake. 

“I am offended ser!”

“Grog.” Percy warns, voice on the edge of upset. “I’m serious. If you did, then there is nothing I can do to help you. We will have to contact Pike and-

“No! Wait! I didn’t! I didn’t.” Grog is begging now. “I didn’t, just please dun tell Pike!” 

If you have ever seen a Goliath Barbarian scared, genuinely terrified, it is in this moment. The very thought of their compassion war cleric of sarenrae getting even the smallest inclination that her older brother had married some random woman on a mountaintop, without telling her!? Without inviting her to the wedding!? WITHOUT INTRODUCING HER!? Grog shuttered at the thought. 

A wave of relief washes over Percy, his tense body relaxing immensely at the good news. “Oh, that’s just wonderful. Thank you Grog, I can work with this!”

“Work with wot?”

“If you haven’t....” He makes a vague gesture. “Then that means Tary and I can work towards getting this betrothal called off! I’m sure it’s in a book somewhere!” 

Grog scratches his bald, tattooed head. “I’m not married then?”

“No! Not yet at least!” Tary claps his hands together. “You’re just betrothed! Engaged! Promised to! Oh this will make for such an exciting chapter in my book! Doty! I hope you are making notes!” 

The large metallic construct squeaks as it produces a familiar quill and ink, turning to a fresh page in his large tome he begins to write. 

Hope, small but powerful washes over them, the sense of relief they felt was like surviving a deadly battle by the skin of your teeth. 

“In the mean time, Grog. While I am looking for a solution to this problem of yours. I need you to be nice to her, do you understand me? Spend time with Yvette, she believes you are married, don’t do anything to upset her too much. Just.....play pretend until I figure out the ritual to break such an engagement. I fear what she might do, as an individual with a Tribal background, if she learns you did not complete this marriage ritual correctly. It could be taken as a great insult.” 

Grog doesn’t understand all of what Percy is saying, but he trusts him. Percy was real smart with his glasses, he was real good at making things and using lots o numbers at once. Be nice. Pretend to be married. He could do that, he was good at pretending....he thinks... He gives the tinkerer a nod, confident. Be nice! Easy! 

How hard could this be, really? 

“And what ever you do, don’t sleep with her!” Tary adds, seriously. “Grog. Do. Not. Sleep. With. Her. I can not stress the importance of this enough! Do not! No! You get in bed with her and ZAP you’re married! Don’t do it!” 

Grog nods once more, a little slower this time. Don’t sleep in the same bed. Got it! 

“Ok....” 

“Excellent, if you have any questions. I’ll be in the library, do try to avoid Vex for the rest of the day, she’s quite perturbed. The idea of you giving away half of your wealth to this woman really did a number on her.” 

The two quickly exit back towards the castle with newfound success, Doty in tow and leaving a confused but very relieved Goliath in their wake. Grog flex’s and balls up his mangled, torn fists; ready to continue pulverising these wooden training men. A surge of energy rumbling like thunder in his veins. 

He was having fun, now that he was single once more. 

...

Yvette mouth explodes with bile and vomit as she wretches violently into her chamberpot, that disgusting mortal foods taste lingering on her tongue from earlier.

Bacon, how utterly revolting. 

The idea of mortals ingesting anything like that to gain sustenance was pathetic and vile, how primitive. The faster she can discard this inferior meat sack of a prison the better! She wipes her mouth out and sits back on her stool. Staring into the vanity mirror she continues to brush her clean, wet, long golden locks out and use what poultry means available to make herself presentable. This distasteful husk was beautiful in face and body at least, if not lacking the voluptuous means desirable to get what she was after so much quicker. No, with this tiny, pathetic meat suit, she would play the long game until her moment to strike arises. Patience. Shy and timid, she had made it into Whitestone castle and soon she would make her way underneath it....

Soon.

She smiles and continues to hum a soft tune to herself as she brushes, she did not know the tune herself, most likely another annoying surface memory from this borrowed body. 

But it was pleasant enough. For now. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The early morning crawls into late afternoon oh so slowly. The hours pass like years after such an eventful and confusing dawn. Everyone in Whitestone Castle is extremely exhausted, whispers and gossips float through the polished white halls from servant to guard of this mysterious new woman whom claims to be the wife of Vox Machina’s resident Barbarian. Scandalous. 

Percival and Taryon had shut themselves away in the library, pouring over books and scrolls of all sorts to find a solution to their current problem. Vex’ahlia had taken to the surrounding woods with Trinket at her side, taking aim at the surrounding trees she tried her best to clear her mind and nerves. 

As the first hints of deep orange began to spread like so much spilled ink on parchment across the clouded sky, the beginnings of a new sunset made its way to Whitestone once more. 

Yvette finishes lacing the front of her dress in her chamber as she prepares for Vex to return and collect her for tea. A long sleeved, beautiful gown of light blue and silver, it’s thick material was soft to the touch and perfect for a chilly Whitestone evening. A knock, hard and far too informal on her large wooden door has the golden haired elf unflinching and curious. Her eyes flick up with unnatural speed to the locked wooden exit, eyes narrowing into slits momentarily she approaches, listening.

“Y...yes?” Her voice is timid as she opens the heavy door slightly to peer through, her vision making contact with a bare, muscular and tattooed stomach that was scared from many a battle. She looks up much much further to stare up at the dark bearded, bald tattooed head of one Grog Strongjaw, her husband. He is staring down at her intently, eyebrows furrowed and his expression thoughtful...kinda. She got the inclination he was not the smartest man in Exandria, she could work with that. An idiot was so much easier to control. 

“Oh....hello...husband.” Opening the door wider she steps through into the mostly empty stone polished hall to greet him, cheeks pink. By his side at her full height she was barley touching his diaphragm, his single hand alone big enough to grab her meat suit completely around the head and crush it like a grape. Curious.

“Hey errr....” Grog scratches his beard awkwardly, he was not used to this. He didn’t know this lady at all, how was he meant to pretend to be her mate, her husband!? Sure, he had been to many a house of lady favours in his time, he’s been with all kinds of different ladies. But he had never been fake married to one before, how was he supposed to act? Maybe he was suppose to hunt and kill monsters in her name? He was good at killin’ things. 

No that’s not right, that’s what got him into this mess to start with... Wait! You can’t be....double married, right? Ah! This was hurting his brain. He had to be nice. Nice.

“B-bidet, Yv....Yvette?” Bumbling, the grey Goliath gives a bow that is far too flourished and formal in her direction, awkward. “I’m here to...uh....apolo-ma-gise for earlier today! And...uh...take you on a tour of Whitestone, as the Grand Poobah de Doink of all dis and dat....uh....” He trails off, scratching his head, confusing himself. Tary had suggested he take her for a walk around Whitestone, to get to know her. Right, yes! He extends an armoured, beefy hand downwards in her direction the same way he sees Percy do for Vex sometimes. 

“Oh....uh yes, thank you. I...I accept your apology. I’d love to...”Pink faced, she goes to reach for it and accept his offer...

Yvette notices his knuckles now, seeing the torn, dried bloody flesh under his stone gauntlets she gasps, reaching for one of them and inspecting the damage. The mighty man is taken aback by her sudden vice grip, confused. Her tiny hands wrap around a single grey finger one by one as she turns them over in her grasp, manhandling his hand. Grog had forgotten about that, honestly it didn’t hurt at all, stinging yes, but hurting? Nah. Nevertheless, he lets her inspect them with worry, puffing out his chest and trying his best to look indifferent and cool despite himself. He may not be married to this woman but his Barbarian pride would not allow him to forgive himself if he didn’t act like it was no big deal. He still wanted to impress her, she was a girl after all. 

“Oh Husband, what did you do? There is wood in your skin!” 

“Uh...”

She opens the large bedroom door behind her and gestures for him to enter, racing for her dirty traveling bear skin pouch beside the vanity dresser. She begins to produce a concoction of ground greenish brown herbs and bandages, a rough medical kit, as Grog wonders inside after her, confused. Weren’t they supposed to be going on a tour?

“I’m ok, I dun even feel it.” He protests, inspecting the dried wounds. They were ripped apart skin chunks of knuckle, covered in dry blood- sharp, jagged pieces of wood rest inside them, under the skin. Seems fine to him. 

“Please sit on the bed, Husband.” She instructs sweetly, her large blue eyes kind as she waits with hands full. Grog does as his told, taking up residence on the lip of the mattress, it bows under his weight. He begins to unclasp his Titan Stone Knuckles, sliding them off his muscular forearms and leaving them bare before her. He could not remember the last time someone had to apply real first aid, it was surprising how quickly you get used to healing magic and high strength potions of healing. 

Taking no time, Yvette gets to work, kneeling down in front of him she grasps his hands delicately and begins to apply pressure on the wounds as she pulls out as many wooden splinters as possible, whispering a timid “sorry” every time a large bloody chunk is ripped away. Not that it hurt, Grog barely felt it honestly....but it was nice to have someone so concerned. In a weird way, this woman reminded him of Pike, it made his mighty chest hurt. He missed Pike. 

The blond begins to paint the wounds in this strange plant smelling greenish brown paste, it was cool to the touch and he felt the sting of his torn flesh begin to disperse with every moment. Bandages are applied with expertise, wrapping up each finger, over the knuckles and up his thick wrists. Thin, pale fingers dance slowly over his flesh lovingly as she ties them off. Finally she leans down and places a soft, gentle kiss on the palm of both of his large hands, making him go red in the face. She smiles up at him, eyes kind, cheeks pink. 

“All better now.”

“....yeah....thanks...”

Straightening up she stands, grabbing a wet cloth to wipe away his blood from her own tiny hands and begin to put her things away. Taking all of her willpower not to lick her fingers clean. Soon, there will be enough of his blood to bath in, she was sure. 

Grog takes the time replacing his gauntlets, flexing his fingers. They felt much better now, they barely stung at all! 

“Now, shall we continue my love?” Yvette asks sweetly, holding out her small hand for him to take. Grog stares at it for just a moment before accepting it and standing up tall. Her fingers slide up from his hand to instead wrap around his thick, muscular forearm to walk close by his side. Like a real couple. Grog is confused and nervous, but he is nice and lets her stay there. 

 

They exit Whitestone Castle together into the cool evening air, the sky was a beautiful splash of oranges, pinks and vibrant reds, all mixed together as the sun begins it’s decent into the distant horizon. Yvette takes a deep breath and smiles up at her large Goliath tour guide patiently as she waits for him to begin.

“Please, I am not familiar with these lands, husband. I would love to hear your wisdom.” 

His wisdom? No ones ever asked him for that before! 

Grog dives into his full, high quality Grand Poobah, tour guide spectacular. He takes her from the front of Whitestone Castle to the back! Then back to the front again! They stroll through the town as he recounts where great undead battles took place, how his buddy Pike vanquished a wave of skeletons! He shows her the pubs he likes, the farmers fields he knows and the ruined manors he was helping rebuild! They make it to the Sun Tree where he pauses to show her that he can climb all the way to the top! So impressive! Before Grog takes her the long way through the woods, back to the castle. He talks about how they fixed the woods and the land from the Briawood’s evil and how they stopped the green gas and the undead from spilling out and overtaking the streets! Yvette was enthralled by it all, she was exceptionally interested in hearing all about the Briawoods’ and their operations, curiously asking about the green fog like gas and were it came from, what it was. If she could see the facility they used to make it, Grog was excited to tell her and he did because it made her smile and made him sound smart! He was such a good tour guide! 

The grey skinned Barbarian finds himself confused because he was having a good time. Yvette was tiny and weak but she laughed when he made a joke and gasped or cheered when he told his tales of battle! She was good company, if not shy and meek. Still, she held his arm through the whole tour, her want and affection towards him sweet and loving, like what you would expect from a devoted wife. It was fucking weird! Grog liked it...he thinks. But then he feels bad because he’s not meant to like it, he’s not married to her and doesn’t wanna be. He was confused. 

Plus it was nice that, for once in a long time, he was the smartest person in the conversation. He found himself explaining stuff to her that she didn’t understand, like how a tavern works! She had never been to a tavern! Without thinking he was eagerly promising to take her tomorrow some time, wild! Grog Strongjaw had a nice evening with his fake wife, he had been nice and she was nice to him. Sugar sweet.

Yvette was bored.

 

The sky is clear, dark and full of stars by the time they begin to ascend the white polished stone steps, they had far missed dinner but neither seemed to mind. The castle was quiet as they entered, few servants flitting about and cleaning, Pale Guard stand on watch, looking bored in their armour. They stand up straighter when the pair pass, nodding a hello to the well known member of Vox Machina. Reaching the end of the large marble foyer the couple stop, their paths branching in two seperate ways, rooms on either side of the castle. 

Yvette lets Grog’s enormous arm go reluctantly and steps back, smiling that same sweet smile. 

“Thank you for the tour, Grog.” The golden haired woman states shyly, cheeks pink. “I had a wonderful evening and I know this has been a hard day for you. I know.....I know this....Ah...” She trails off, face hot, she drops her head into her hands, embarrassed. “Thank you. I’m sorry...and...” Her meek voice is nothing more then a soft mumble and Grog leans down to her level to listen, face strained with curiously.

“Wot?”

Like a snake striking with ungodly speed Yvette balls her fists together over her heart and kisses her Goliath husband on the tattooed cheek softly, quickly. She pulls away and covers her lips shyly with her fingers, the tingle from his beard fresh, her face is red. “Sleep well, husband.”

She turns on her booted heels and escapes down the hall, small body embarrassed until she was out of the Goliath’s sight. 

The barbarian’s grin is wide and he puffs out his tattooed chest impressively, proudly. Cheeks pink and a feeling of warmth lingering from her touch he feels a sense of satisfaction he did not know he needed well up inside of him, it was confusing. His fake wife who thinks is his real wife just gave him a goodnight kiss after they had gone on a fake date that was also a real date to her, his fake wife. Because she loved him but he didn’t love her....

Before Grog could think more on the very confusing matter, his stomach grows hungrily. He needed food, food was easy to understand. He heads towards the kitchen. 

 

...

Vex kisses her husband on the nose softly, trailing small pecks along his cheek and jaw line before pulling away and leaning her head on his shoulder as he reads quietly. They pair sit in their large bed together, the oil lamp illuminating their bedroom in a soft, warm glow. Trinket snores by her bedside, fast asleep.

“Any luck darling?” She asks quietly, closing her eyes and breathing in his metallic, gunpowder like smell. It was lovely.

Percy sighs softly and takes off his glasses, resting the book on his sheets he reaches and grabs his wife’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “Not really, unfortunately. I’ve combed through a number of different books but they all seem to be the same.” He rubs his tired eyes, he was exhausted. “I suppose getting a divorce or breaking off a betrothal was not a thing that happened in ancient Tal’Dorei...” 

The half-elvan Ranger thinks for a moment before sitting up straight. “Perhaps it was invented later? Have you tried reaching out to Allura? I’m sure there are plenty of books in Emon libraries that might have a solution...like books that are later published.” She is thinking deeply before her thoughts are cut off by Percy’s soft lips on her own in a long, loving kiss, he shifts by her side to cup her beautiful face lovingly.

“My my...” He whispers softly, drawing back and rubbing a thumb down her soft cheek. “I’ve married a genius, I had no idea.” He kisses her once more, a quick peck this time. “I’ll organise it tomorrow, Gods you are smart.” 

She laughs lightly and he pulls away, discarding his glasses and book to the nightstand before returning to kiss her once more. They snuggle down together in the warm, plush bed and the oil lamp is dimmed into darkness. They lay entwined as one, taking comfort from each other’s rhythmic, light heartbeats for some time.

“I love you Percival.” 

He leans down and kisses her hair, it smelt of pine and snow. He loved it. 

“I adore you, Vex’ahlia.” 

 

...

Food. Mortal food. Roast pheasant cooked in rosemary and thyme, served with baked potatoes, leek and grilled carrot. The plate sits on the end of the neatly made bed, presented beautifully on a silver platter with a slew of cutlery and spices. Disgusting. 

With a sickened roll of her eyes Yvette slops the food into her fireplace, watching it burn and crumble to ash. Never again would she dare to put another shred of mortal food into her gullet, the bacon was traumatic enough. She was hungry though, a shallow pit in the base of her meat suit was yearning for something. A need for sustenance that roast vegetables and bird could not quell.

She had to feed, soon. How troublesome. 

The plan for tonight was to sneak out of this prison like bedroom and find the entrance in the castle that led underground, underneath to her goal. This hunger complicates things. The blond sits on her beds edge, perhaps she could eat one of her guards outside her door? There was a nice looking young lady posted by herself when she entered.....it wouldn’t be hard....

Oh how irritating! She stands, crossing the room, stopping briefly to glance at her reflection in the mirror. 

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t eat your husband.....not yet.” She states to herself cruelly, taking pleasure in the minor twitch of alarm to her meat suit’s eyes. “I’ll be sure you can watch it all when I do.” 

The beautiful elf opens her heavy door, sticking her head out she sees her sentry. A young lady stands in light Pale Guard leathers, a crossbow slung over her shoulder and no helmet as she waits alone in the empty hallway. 

“Hello...” Yvette smiles kindly, waving shyly. The woman turns to look at her, curiously. 

“Good evening ma’am, is everything alright?” 

She smiles sweetly. “Oh yes, I feel very protected and safe. I was wondering however if you might help me with my fireplace, the logs I’ve been given are a little heavy for me.” Yvette opens her door wider, an invitation. The guard gives her a nod.

“Oh course, ma’am.” The Guard enters into her chambers and bends down towards the log pile to begin stacking the low burning fire. The blond shuts the big wooden door closed behind her, a sweet smile on her lips. 

Dinner time. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

There was no struggle at all, no loud bangs and crashes or even yells of surprise. Long slender fingers slid like trails of ice down the front of the Pale guard’s leather armours as they stoked the low fire. Lips, warm and wet trace their neck, under their earlobe before a honeyed voice dances alluringly into their mind.

“Shhhhh.....just relax....” 

The Pale Guard woman feels her mind begin to go fuzzy, her eyes glaze over as her vision becomes clouded and muddy. Until it was not, a small piece of glass, green in colour and sharp at the edges, it was hypnotic, demanding of their attention. It dances for just a moment in long pale fingers and the Pale Guard woman lets out a slow breath, mind darkening as that glass disappears from sight. Relaxed.....

“......uh........”

She leans backwards on her booted heels, into the small, warm body at her back, into those tantalising lips. Sounds becoming muted around her, blank mind slowing down as the crackle of the fire fades out to nothing. Relax.

The cold fingers on the front of her armour dance upwards now, past her throat to her cheeks and cup her face in a steel like grasp. There was suddenly nothing in the whole wide world but those lips, that comforting voice....that green.

“ I.....I.....uhh...” 

“It’s ok....shhh, you are ok....”

They were ok....they were relaxed....

Those fingers force her head to turn gently and as the guard looks over her armoured shoulder, those soft elvish lips meet her own in a slow, loving kiss. The guard feels her mind break away completely now, unable to grasp the tethers of her reality as her relaxed muscles lock up and she finds herself falling upon her back on the hard stone floor, unable to move. Unable to think, unable to feel anything....

Firelight glints off the leather armour as the tiny elvan woman climbs over her, hiking up her dress to straddle her prey and lean in close. The guard try’s to speak but no words emerge, her mouth opening and closing uselessly like a gasping, dying fish. Yvette smiles down at her, pulling a stray lock of dark hair out of this woman’s face lovingly. 

“Shhhhh, it’s ok. I will leave your body alive....” Her lips trace the helpless guards’, ghosting over them and looking deeply into her hazy eyes. “I just want your soul....” 

With that she kisses the paralysed woman deeply, passionately. Forcing her way inside Yvette begins to consume this guards succulent life essence, sucking and draining all she could, to the last juicy drop. The dark skin of this woman beneath her begins to pale in a sickly way, small dark veins begin to dance and spread over her neck and face like a twisted spiders web. Her cheeks become increasingly shallow and eyes ringed and sunken. There is no struggle as this poor woman’s soul is sucked forcefully from her still body and consumed hungrily through their kiss. Memories, personality, individuality all drained clean in a slow agonising moment, leaving the sickly body a walking, talking corpse in its stead. 

A small amount of time passes and Yvette is finally finished, her body full and energy rejuvenated, she sits up off her dinner, wiping her mouth she returns to sit on her beds edge gracefully waiting. Staring down at the pale, ruined shell of a human she has left behind, she smiles and places her tiny green glass shard back into her dress. 

There is silent moment before eventually the body stirs back to functioning mobility, sitting up silently it looks around the room like a robotic husk being powered on for the first time, awaiting orders. Blinking slowly, it stands up, adjusting its armour. Shame. The body without a soul is a corpse, it won’t last longer then a week. Oh well. 

“Continue to guard me, thank you.” 

The Pale Guard, in more ways then one, nods politely. Their eyes vacant of light, voids of soulless darkness. They step outside and return to their post, closing the large door behind them as they do. Body stiff and inhuman.

Her meat suit begins to leak water from the eyes as she sits down in front of the mirror once more and begins to brush her golden hair, how annoying. 

She can’t stand crying.

...

Two days pass until Yvette get to experience her very first tavern.

“Another Ale!” Grog’s voice is loud and boisterous as it bounces off the empty tavern walls, his wooden tankard sloshing over the stained table as the dizzy barmaid runs to retrieve his order, arms full. The sun was nowhere to be found in the dark grey, heavily clouded sky. A wet, cold, soggy day had fallen upon the great city of Whitestone and everyone was inside, hidden away from the icy chill and the frozen sleet in the air. 

I mean everybody! Farmers, Pale Guard and civilians alike all amass to drink and warm their bellies in the old, dry interior of the Journey’s End. The recently married pair sit together in said dimly lit tavern surrounded by a towering wall of empty ale tankards. Dozen of patrons cram themselves together into this busy hovel to escape the bitter cold outside, making for a lively late afternoon atmosphere! A small band plays with haphazard instruments on an elevated stage in the far corner, filling the crowded building with joyful tunes and songs. Yvette nurses the same strong drink she’s had since arriving, it rests in both her small hands as she watches her husband chug down yet another monstrously sized cup of booze. Drink was easier to stomach then mortal food at least, barley. 

He looked utterly overjoyed and oh so very buzzed, with no sign of slowing down. It was truly impressive how much alcohol a half giant could consume and still be quiet functional. She wanted to go, to dive beneath the Castle of Whitestone and seek out her prize, her purpose for being here....well, one of the purposes. But she couldn’t, not yet. The Ranger and her useless bear stalk the halls during the day, not to mention the nosey Gunslinger and his awful sister.... They watch her every move when she was outside her bedroom alone, at least with the Idiot they left her alone, Grog was a perfect cover really. Still, twice she had gone looking for the damn entrance into the undercroft, twice she had been spotted as she searched. It was irritating. She was just lucky enough that everyone was too preoccupied with researching her marriage to this large moron to really look further into her excuses or intentions. There are only so many times she can claim being lost in that grand castle until it gets suspicious after all. No, she has to wait, at least until nightfalls upon this pathetic city once more and she can escape unseen below. She would wait till tonight to try once more, for now, she will be nice. For now she will be Mrs Strongjaw and play her part.

And what a good job she was doing, quite impressively playing her role, smiling sweetly and acting shy and timid. The huge Goliath was loving the attention, despite his earlier protests about their situation when she had first arrived. He was kind, or at leasing trying to be while his friends searches so desperately for a way to be rid of her, to separate them. Yvette found him intriguing also, his large, strong body was curious and she was tempted so badly to cut him open like a fish and see what’s inside. Of course couldn’t, not yet. Still her mind wonders when they are alone, when she thinks about ripping out his tongue, tasting it. Or bathing naked in his crimson while her meat suit watches in horror....oh the options where endless, alluring. Perhaps she would make wicked sin with him in someone else’s blood? He was this meat suits husband but she could certainly borrow him for an evening.....

She bites her lip and stares into her ale, cheeks pin, body hot at the wonderfully horrific thought.

She was technically Mrs Strongjaw.....and she did love torturing this golden elf...

The band begins to play an upbeat tune, a rousing ditty that begins to amass into a fun cacophony of rhythm! Patrons that could stand straight begin to flock to the band, mugs in hand some begin to dance and jig to the beat of the fast music. The blond feels herself tapping her toes, to her surprise and humming along with familiarity before she is rising from her chair, her body drawn to the music. Yvette places her tankard down and gives the drunk Goliath a smile. 

“Watch my drink, husband.” She requests kindly, touching his face lovingly before smiling. “I wish to dance!” Grog gives her a curious look before watching as she skips through the crowd of observing bar goers to the cleared out space that vaguely resembles a dance floor. She claps in time to the music’s fast rhythm before beginning to twirl her dress and sway alongside the many other shifting bodies. She smiles as a large human man with shaggy brown hair and beard grasps her hand and twirls her around with a booming, joyful laugh. Everyone cheers as the pair glide across the dance floor, laughing. Grog gets up from the ale stained table to watch the racket, standing heads above the formidable forming crowd like a bright grey beacon he claps along slightly out of rhythm with everyone else. Grinning, slightly drunk from under his dark beard.

Yvette looks genuinely happy and confident in herself as she moves to the drum beat. That pathetically small and weak looking elf was alight with a new strength he did not know she had, it was intrepid, wonderful. Getting to know this mystery woman over the past 3 days had been surprisingly thrilling. She was smart with medicines, kind to everyone and now it appeared she loved to move in tandem to song. 

“Husband!” She calls to him standing there, spinning away from her current partner and holding out her small hands to the large barbarian, sweat on her brow. Grog does not dance very well at all, he fights and kills stuff, that’s his special skill. But he accepts her offer, the buzz of alcohol in his system letting him throw away any worry or embarrassment to the icy wind, he wanted to dance with her! He was her fake husband after all. 

They glide together across the dance floor where he spins her, tips her and lets her dance around him. Fumbling momentarily but she does not mind, giggling when he trips or stammers her way, his massive muscular body absolutely dwarfing her mini elvish one but still, they make it work and he try’s his best to be gentle. They enjoy the song together until it reaches its climactic finish everyone begins clapping and cheering, drinks held high. The pair are breathing heavily, hands still holding one another as the band begins their next piece and people start to wander away to get more alcohol or join the fray. She smiles up at him, tightening her grip. 

“I am hot.” She calls up at him and he nods, beads of sweat dotting on his own tattooed forehead. “Perhaps we could go somewhere less crowded, my love?” She begins to walk him towards the exit, hand in hand. They stand together outside the loud, crowded tavern under the eves, watching heavy rain fall in sheets around them. The wind is icy and refreshing on their hot skin, chilling them both quickly. Yvette shivers with delight and is surprised when Grog’s large arm pulls her in close to his tattooed body, as if to protect her from the cold. 

...

 

Night falls, thick dark blankets of black storm clouds cover all of Whitestone, obscuring the stars. The rain falls just as heavily, soaking everything to the bone. The lighting that streaks like bright veins across the sour sky are followed quickly by loud booming waves of thunder. A simple dinner is had in the castle’s dinning hall, eaten in polite conversation by candlelight until it was appropriate to excuse yourself and seperate for bed. Taryon and Doty take time to walk their elvan guest back through the large, stone castle to her prison like bedroom. 

It approach’s the midnight hour as she waits on the edge of her bed, a large rumble of thunder cracks across the distant sky and she stands up, no longer able to wait. Body alight with trembling excitement for what lay ahead. Yvette slips out of her room, smiling at her lone, male sentry that watches her emerge, curious. Oh course she was curious, it was midnight and she was wondering about in a simple night gown. 

“Ma’am.” He states, waiting patiently for her to explain herself. She smiles at him sweetly, closing the front of her robes, looking shy.

“Good evening, I’m sorry. I’m still a little hungry, I was hoping to fetch some left over supper from the kitchens.” She explains and he nods, about to take a step after her, to follow her. She has to fight not to roll her eyes.

No, thank you.

“Oh no, I’m fine. I know where it is.” She tries hard to sound innocent and sorry for making trouble. The Pale Guard stares at her for a moment before he gives her a curious, unbelieving glance. Damn it all! 

“I’m sorry ma’am but I can’t just-

“Oh for Baator’s sake!” She curses, irritated. Yvette spins on her heels before she leans forward and presses the small greenish, glass shard in her palm into his helmeted vision. “Silence, fool. Follow and be silent as you tread!” 

Everywhere she goes! Someone was watching! It was infuriating! She was done, tonight she finds her goal! No more interruptions! 

Eyes glazed over the man relaxes and does as his told, completely silent he begins to follow her as she strolls through the darken halls. Lightning illuminates their path, the sharp flashes of light dancing through the large stain glass windows of the castle. She finds the entrance she was looking for, undisturbed by the single guard, to her surprise, they obviously think that because she had her own Pale Guard escorting her, she was perfectly trustworthy. Idiots, mortals, all of them. 

Descending past the double doors and down the stone steps towards the undercroft, there is no light, complete darkness was the only thing waiting to greet them. Her blue eyes glint and pupils narrow greatly, her true sighted vision allowing her to stride down the crumbling stairs with confidence, their stones cold under her bare feet. Her Pale Guard follows behind much much slower, his human eyes lost in the darkness but his entranced state willing nonetheless. The smell of musty rot and stale air reaches her nose and it is enticing, the temperature dropping immensely as the stairway opens up into a large open, stone room. The undercroft, the shared tomb of the pathetic de Rolo family, it was unguarded, much to her surprise. It was in a partial state of repair, broken stones lay piled off to the sides, wooden rigging lines the cracked walls and roof to keep the path clear and safe. Ancient, partially intact sarcophagi run perfectly aligned up the path as they walk through, Yvette stops mid stride to close her eyes and concentrate on her tiny green glass shard. She knew more of it was around here somewhere, it was processed heavily in the past and the noxious gas left behind left scares in the material plane that only her keen sight could see. Residuum, the ultimate purpose of her revolting little adventure to this ugly city. Her master craved the rumoured substance for its ability to retain and amplify arcane energies. Spells and curses. He hungered for it and so did she, especially after seeing what this small piece could do! Imagine how quickly the mortal realms would run with blood if they had more! It made her shutter with lustful delight, she could hear their screams already. 

Yvette takes to the tunnel beyond the crypt, there are no guards as she investigates the long abandoned acid pits, empty and useless. Cursing she takes the second path down the freezing stone tunnel and finds the broken metallic room covered in scars, no doubt a busted distilling station for her desired glass substance. It was empty and she wants to scream, enraged. She was so damn close! The closest she’s been! Mentally she takes notes of what she finds, readying herself for a lengthy report when she returns home to her master. If she can not find Residuum, then surly they can make it with the information she provides.

The quiet rumble of thunder from a sky far far overhead shakes her from her thoughts and she turns on her heels to leave this disappointing hole, she did not dare venture onwards down this tunnel, it was getting late and she could hear the muffled clinking of armoured Pale Guard waiting beyond.

Striding through the old, musty, alluring crypt of the dead towards the crumbling staircase that lead above, Yvette pauses for a moment when a wave of excitement suddenly washes over her meat suit body. She stops, looks around in the thick darkness and begins to concentrate on that feeling. Giddiness, joy, it pulls her over to a pile of crumbled stone at the base of a busted up, cracked tomb. She searches the rumble curiously before her delicately small hand finds a large, jagged piece of flat, opaque green glass. She couldn’t believe her eyes, it was about a foot long and half a foot wide, sharp and oh so beautiful. What absolute luck had fallen upon her, that wave of excitement turns to pride and something more....

Yvette runs her hands over its surface, entranced.

Oh how wonderful! She can take this as evidence that more residuum exists here, the rumours true. Oh how her master will reward her! 

“Who goes there!?” Firelight fills the decrepit chamber as a Pale Guard in splendid Captains’ armour descends from the foot of the stone stairs, a torch in his gauntleted hand. It catches her off balance as bright dancing orange light filters over her crouching form, the Guard Captain reaching for his sword at his side as he stares at her in shock.She had not heard his footsteps in her enthralled state! Foolish! She stares up at him, her large ghoulish eyes unnatural and sneer menacing and evil upon her elvish face. It creeps into a smile, a wicked grin as she begins to stand upright, gripping and squeezing her residuum in her now bloody hand.

“Halt right there!” He warns, sword drawn as he begins to approach. “You are under arrest by order of the Pale Guard of Whitestone! Under the Authority of the de Rolo family!” 

Yvette tilts her head to the side. Oh how cute, her eyes flicker to her entranced Pale Guard of her own, standing in the shadowed corner next to the stares, waiting. 

“Grab him.” 


	6. Chapter 6

“Ah! How...How dare you!?” 

Gauntleted hands reach out from the shadows like a viper and grab and wrap around the Guard Captains arms from behind, pulling his upper arms back and locking him in place. The torch falls to their feet, the flames flaring up and casting long, haunting shadows across the decrepit crypt. Shock flashes across his face, betrayal and bewilderment as he struggles to look over his armoured shoulder at his attacker. He fights against the steel, zombie like grip of his own man, his own soldier! His sword clatters loudly to the cold stone ground and he watches in horror as this elvan witch stalks towards him, obscured partially by inky shadows as she strides in his direction, face murderous and cruel! She bends down to reach for his fallen blade and the Captain takes the opportunity to slam his helmeted skull backwards, smashing his grappler hard enough in the plated face to daze the entranced traitor. He stumbles backwards, releasing his hold. Yvette plunges the Pale Guard short sword into the Captain’s side, piecing past the ornate armour and causing the large man to yell in pain. The Captain lurches forward, the bloody blade falling from the wound back onto the stone as he tackles this small, villainous woman in an attempt to subdue her. They crumble together amongst the rumble and stone and dust, the blond elvan woman mounts his form, hissing something in infernal and stabbing up under his helmet with the large shard of green glass. She pierces his neck, leaving a jagged, bloody wound across his throat, he roars in agony, blood gushing over his armour and soaking his cape and her night gown. He punches up in her direction, his gauntleted fist hitting her delicate face hard enough to feel her nose crack inwards and sending her tumbling off him with a screech of pain. Yvette lands on her back heavily as the Guard Captain scrambles over towards her, bleeding heavily he holds her down by her throat, he begins to punch down at her hissing face, bludgeoning it repeatedly as she begins to spit out blood and laugh up at him, their crimson mixing together on her bruised cheeks. 

“Die, demon!” He declares roughly, broken voice barley audible through his morbid neck wound, breathing heavily and sweating under his helmet. He knew he had a bad feeling about this mysterious wench! She smiles up at him cruelly through blood streaked vision as a blade erupts through the guard Captains chest from behind. The Captain faults mid strike, eyes going wide with shock and mouth hanging a gasp uselessly, crimson bubbling past his lips. He glances down at the blooded sword tip emerging from his new wound and just as he registers what had transpired, the blade is forcefully removed back out with a wet sucking sound, Yvette’s enthralled Pale Guard slave looming behind, said bloodied sword in hand, eyes blank. Ready to strike again if he has to.

The Captain slumps forward on top of the elvish woman, eyes starting to cloud over with darkness, muscles becoming weak as deep crimson runs over and pools around them both. The blond woman smiles up at him victoriously, grasping the sides of his helmeted face in her hands she leans him forward, bringing his blood stained lips to hers. She kisses him and begins to consume his weakened spirit, sapping his soul from his dying body before it could escape to the astral plane. As she devours his delicious essence her bruises begin to fade from a dark purple to a supple pale beige, her broken nose starts to reform and snap back into its rightful place with a sickly ‘pop’. A moment passes and soon he was nothing more then a corpse resting above her. Breathing heavily and still covered in red, she instructs her thrall to pull the Captains now completely lifeless corpse off her body. Working together they reopen an ancient sealed sarcophagus and dump his armoured body and weapons into it before sliding that heavy stone back into place. Let this fool rot with these ancient bones! 

They extinguished the touch and while the blood left pooled on the stone floor was immense, it would dry and be hard to spot in the shadowed corner. 

“Oh my my, what a mess dear.” Yvette is covered in blood from the chest down, her white nightgown soaked through and running ribbons down her pale legs to pool at her feet. Her Pale Guard was bruised across his face but otherwise ok, he stood awaiting orders by her side. 

Oh what a thrill! A shiver runs through her meat suit as she clutches the Residuum shard close to her chest, she needed that so badly. To be covered in the warm crimson of your enemy, to watch as they struggle against death as the light fades from their eyes.... Oh it would be such a waste to bring the evening to an end after this, her bloodlust has been awakened and while she would like nothing more then to move periodically from room to room killing everyone and everything she came across, she knew it was not feasible. A shame. Perhaps her lust could be satisfied a different way. 

“Give me your cape and take this. Return it to my room, hide it amongst my things. Distract that idiot guard waiting up top as well dear.” She instructs, handing the glass shard to her Pale Guard, they take it silently before unclasping their white cape and handing it over. Dull eyed they turn on their heel, quietly starting to ascend the stone steps out of sight. She takes a moment to slip out of her night robes and ring out the excess blood before wiping her legs, face and hair clean. She discards the ruined robes to a shadowy corner and wraps the pale cape around her naked body before following up the crumbling steps. Leaving faint bloody footprints that fade as she reaches the top. 

Emerging through those large double wooden doors she is satisfied to find her little thrall had does a pleasant job clearing her way, not a pesky guard in sight. She strides through the darkened Whitestone halls, watching the lighting above dance and weave through the night sky. The moons of Exandria hidden by a blanket of rain and dark clouds. She stops mid step down the hall in front of a large ornate mirror, beautiful jewels encrust the elaborate brass design. Yvette pulls her cape closer to her tiny body and takes stock of her slightly disheveled appearance, playing with this mortals facial expressions to find the perfect blend of shy but sexy. Adjusting her golden hair to frame her face, wiping any loose blood stains away until she was perfectly clean. Well, mostly clean, she leaves some blood on the back of her thigh, the idea of that pathetic mortals essence coating her flesh like a prideful badge of the kill was all too alluring to ignore. 

Wonderful. She gives herself the sweetest, kindest smile. Sugar sweet. 

“Show time my love, try to relax into it.” She purrs into her reflection, the large blue eyes of her meat suit widen involuntarily as they realise what she means. Fear, worry. Her smile widens. 

“Shhhh its ok, it’s what you want....I promise to let you watch till the end, just how I let you watch when I kill people. Tsk tsk, so much blood on your pathetic mortal hands...come along...” 

There is the smallest moment of hesitation in her legs, just a moment, too small to be noticed by the casual observing eye where her husk fights desperately to hold herself back, it is pointless. But it was cute that she was trying.

Yvette continues down the hall, quietly making her way until she stops outside a heavy wooden bedroom door, she knocks quietly a couple of times before she try’s the handle. It is unlocked and she strikes a candle to life by the entrance as she opens the large door inwards. She shuffles inside timidly, filling the room with a warm orange glow, soft and welcoming. 

“Husband.....?” The elvan woman asks kindly, cheeks pink.

Grog Strongjaw, looking tired, rolling onto his back on his far too small bed, stirred awake from a deep rumbling slumber by her soft voice and the new presence of light in the room. He yawns and sits up, scratching his beard with a look of confusion in her direction. She stands shyly, holding her cloak close before placing the candle down on a nearby dresser. It was covered in random bits and bobs, weapons and creature parts from his adventures. In fact the whole room was quite messy, smelling of burning wood and ale, a barbarian’s room. 

“Mmmm...wot’s wrong?” His voice is deep and husky as he swings his still booted legs over the edge of the sheetless mattress, stretching out his large muscles and scratching his scarred chest before making eye contact with her. It appears the large Goliath had just sort of...collapsed onto the bed, full armour and weapon still on his person. Yvette shifts shyly, meeting his mighty if not curious gaze.

“I couldn’t sleep, husband. I’m sorry for waking you.....I just....I had to see you, the storm....I had....I....” She trails off, coving her face with embarrassment and sorrow. Her tiny shoulders shaking with emotion. Grog panics, standing up from the bed he crosses the distance between them, standing in front of this tiny, upset woman he wasn’t quite sure of what to do! Does he touch her? Ahhh....does he...does he hug her? His big grey hands hover around her body, unsure. He wanted to be nice to her. Percy told him to be nice! He liked Yvette, she was weak and small but nice and smart. He wanted to be a good fake husband! He was only just getting good at pretending, now this?!

“Uhh....are you okay? Do....do you uhh....you.....you are sad.” He states plainly, pointing out the obvious in the best way he knows how. “Why?” The barbarian takes a step away from her, unclasping his blood axe and placing it against the bedpost before returning to crouch down in her front to stare up at her pale, sweet face. Mixed feelings bubble up in his muscular chest. Rage, concern....guilt? Like he wants to smash the bad feeling in her heart away, but how do you smash feelings!?

The blond woman gives him a sad smile, tears in her eyes as she places a small hand on his cheek, running a thumb through his dark beard lovingly, what an idiot. “Oh Grog. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry....” She whispers, he realises this is the first time she had called him by his name...

“For wot?” He stands up now, taking that same hand in his own mighty one and stares down at her. He is confused.

“I know you don’t want to be my husband. I know you don’t want to be married to someone like me.” She explains, gesturing to herself as a rumble of thunder cracking loudly overhead. “I....I shouldn’t have done what I did. I feel like I tricked you into marriage....I didn’t think....I was just so.....taken by how powerful and kind you were when we met. I...I was swept up in my Tribe’s traditions, I was struggling with the idea of having a mate selected for me that when you stepped in to save my life I.....I....I’m sorry.” She takes her hand away from his, pulling the cloak closer to her body, the room was chilly, the fire long since burnt out. She was surprised by how true the words coming out of her meat suit were...interesting. 

Grog waits, his brain ticking slowly over, digesting what she had said. He is even more confused now! He must have looked a sight because Yvette springs forward, reaching up to cup his tattooed face in her little hands. Eyes worried.

“Oh but I’ll be a good wife, Husband! I can cook and clean! I find you handsome and interesting as well! I want to be yours, I want to be the best wife ever...for you....I want to...”

She presses her small fingers into his battle hardened chest, forcing him to take a few steps back from her, the back of his knees hitting the mattress. She takes a steadying breath. He watches, cheeks going red, mouth a gasp as she lets the Pale Guard cape slip away from around her delicate, elvan form. It pools around her feet in a soft pile, her bare, naked body standing openly before him.

“Uh.....” He can’t think, he can’t look away. She was so small and beautiful before him in the candlelight, beautiful face loving and hands outstretched she begins to walk in his direction, striding gracefully across the cold stone floor. Barbarian blood pumping in his ears, an urge all too familiar washes over him. Like an animal, he wanted her, craved this tiny kind lady that was his wife....fake wife, he didn’t care anymore. He would not sleep with her because he promised Tary, but sex was fine, right? He had never had sex with someone who loved him before....the idea of sharing flesh with someone like that was thrilling, he wanted it. Wanted to experience it just once. Making love....

“I want to give you my everything....husband.” She speaks softly as she takes his large hand and guides it up slowly to rest on her small chest, over her slow beating heart. She shivers when he runs a thumb over her soft pale flesh. 

“I....I-

Grog cuts her tiny voice off, leaning down he captures her mouth in his own in a rough, desirable kiss. A massive grey hand moves to grip the back of her blond head, the other grabbing her naked hip in a vice like grip, forcing her head backwards and their kiss deeper. Tasting iron and strawberries on her tongue he lets his confused mind go, giving in to what he thinks he wants. He drags her body close to his protectively and Yvette places her hands on his broad chest, embracing him and letting him pull her downwards into his own lust. 

Oh this will be fun...

 

...

Pike has a forbidding feeling crawl down her spine as she replaces the old flowers with fresh bright ones in the newly risen shrine to the Ever Light. A sickly feeling of unease and dread she pauses to concentrate on it and why this sudden, new emotion has taken root in the pit of her stomach on such a nice sunny day. Making a curious face she reflex’s, leaning in to smell her freshly cut flowers, the same that would grow in her garden in Westruun. They stink of rotten flesh and decay.

“What does this mean?” She whispers to the wind, to her lady. “I fear danger, perhaps? Am I to worry for someone I love?” 

A single fresh flower wilts and dries in the vase and she lets out a worried breath. 

Very well then, she will investigate at once.


	7. Chapter 7

Darkness surrounds her. Like a cage of shadows and sludge she continues to slip further downwards into its inky depths. Struggling against the pull of eternal oblivion she claws at the wet, slimy ground with her hands as she crawls, like trying to climb out of quicksand, useless. Arm muscles screaming and tired body alight with burning exhaustion she breathes hard, panting and sweating as that abyss of inky darkness stains across her flesh. Yvette watches from her own muted vision, helpless and useless as her body murders, steals and lies across Exandria without her control. This horrid she demon ruining her life these past months, destroying everything and everyone she holds dear and she was useless to stop it. Oh how she had tried! She screams at the top of her burning lungs for it to stop, to let her go! To release these chains of madness she sobs into the darkness as she crawls, fights. It was for nothing, her body was gone- stolen by this demon and she could only watch in horror at the abhorrent things it so delights in making her witness. The first of what was meant to be a special night with her new husband was one of them!

She may as well be dead!

...

 

Yvette’s body was small, tiny! Grog’s single grey hand could encapsulate her waist easily and as he kissed her feverishly, he did. Picking her up like she was made of nothing but air and feathers he holds her close to his muscular, tattooed chest, never breaking their impassioned, desperate kiss. Her little legs stretching as far as they possibly could to wrap around his thick torso as he lays her down on his mattress, it bows under their combined weight. He towers over her, her fingers dancing and exploring all they could reach, tugging at his belt of dwarven kind suggestively before they splay out and drag themselves over his toned, scarred waist. She traces his bold tattoos as their mouths work together in impassioned tandem, moaning with a building need. His muscular chest rippling and shivering with every delicate, growing touch. Combined with their tongues and lips ever so perfectly enveloping one another sensually, it was enough to make even the wisest man’s mind go fuzzy with desire. 

The mighty Goliath finally breaks their long kiss, both breathing heavily he presses his forehead to hers and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath of her blond hair. He speaks something in a language she can not understand, it sounds rough and perhaps giant in nature before he begins to kiss and suck excitedly along her pale throat. She fights back a laugh and a moan as he starts trailing hungry kisses downwards, his large strong hands grab a single, supple but small breast. Yvette moans now loudly in delight as he rolls it around in his calloused palm, running the pad of this thumb over her small pink nipples playfully. Grog gives her a wolf like grin, teeth bared. He liked that sound.

He kisses her stomach and navel area hungrily as he does, relishing the cute breathy sounds he draws from her wet lips with each touch. She feels him draw himself lower and lower, separating her pale thighs apart as far as they could possible go in order to accomodate his hips nestled between them. Her meat suit’s face is red with embarrassment at her whole naked self being on display before this giant of a man. Grog didn’t seem to mind at all, his bearded face far to enthralled with leaving hot lingering trails of sparks all over her soul. Yvette was loving it for many more reasons then just one! It was a special kind of torture! She so wants this elf wench to suffer! 

“Husband...” She gasps with sultry breath, melting under him, her hands grip his large shoulders for support as she hears him unclasping his own armour with his free hand. The barbarian’s pants and armoured warriors cloth fall in a heavy heap on the cold stone by the edge of the bed, pooling around his booted feet as he returns to kiss her supple lips desperately. She takes his mouth hungrily, deepening their touch invitingly. His momentum is getting faster and much more desperate then ever as he tastes her sweet, kindly lips, his spare hand wondering down to rub and paw against her hot, quivering entrance playfully. Testing her resolve. 

“Ah!” Yvette buckles with wide eyed surprise, a sly smile creeps across her normally shy exterior but he is too absorbed to notice, taken aback by that wonderful noise she had just made for him. He wants to hear it again! Louder! A feverish rush blocking out all logical thinking....not that he was a very logical thinker to begin with! He wanted this beautiful thing spayed out in offering before him, he would take it! He demanded it!

“Ah!Husband! Yes! Take her, take her now!” She breathes excitedly through muted heavy kisses, arms encircling his thick neck encouragingly before pushing him to continue onwards, buckling up to meet this daring hand. She can hear Yvette, the real Yvette screaming in the back of her mind but she did not care, this was far too thrilling to stop now! Would the Goliath destroy her body she wondered? Snap her tiny bones in his lust rage? Ruin her forever? Oh she was ever so curious! 

“Hurry and take her flower, Barbarian!” The blond elf hisses in demand, her voice deep with lust trembling excitement, a cruelty underlining her sweet smile. “I want you to make her...me scream, Husband!” She grinds against him playfully and he groans loudly, large muscular arms clamping down upon her hips, sliding downwards to grip those soft, pale legs. Spread them open, feel the heat arise from her entrance. He snarls with primal, barbaric excitement before his lustful eyes flicker upwards to meet her large blue ones.

She was crying...

Grog faults for just a moment, his big hands gripping either side of her tiny thighs as he alines his large, throbbing manhood with her tiny, delicate entrance. He was a big guy, he knew that, far bigger then most. He is used to going slower then....this. He had to prepare most woman before he could even dream of anything else, it was a special torture reserved just for him and most of those women are much larger then this one. But she was encouraging him oh so boldly, laying panting red faced before him, demanding he fuck her brains out so eagerly... Conflict arises in his mighty, tattooed chest but it is short lived and quelled when the small, teary eyed woman below him runs her delicate hand down her body slowly, coming to rest at her own entrance. She opens herself to him invitingly, spreading the pale pink lips hungrily, fingers slick. She bites her lip and Grog feels his resolve crack.

“Husband....ruin me, please.”Tears flow freely from her eyes.... that deep swirling lust boils over inside him and he grips her thighs tighter.

“Prepare yourself, wife!”

Grogs hips buckle forward violently with a rumbling roar of primal desire he enters her almost completely all at once, pushing past that impossibly small entrance. Her body jerks violently, buckling and twisting.

“Aaggghhhh! Yes!” Yvette screams out in a mix of pure agony and hysterical laughter, her arms going up to grip the mattress with utter desperation. Tiny legs quivering but unable to escape his iron like grasp as he begins to thrust. He leans down and takes her soft mouth in his own dominating once more...

A surprisingly soft kiss from the mighty Barbarian.

...

 

Percival is awoken in his study by the loud banging on his iron door, the heavy sounds of the raging storm above having lulled him into a deep slumber it seems. Wiping the drool and soot from his face he stands and opens the heavy door curiously.

“Yes, what is it? Oh!” The gunslinger glances down at the glowing, semi translucent form before him with mild surprise. “Pike! How good to see you my dear! A little late for a house call.” 

The glowing Cleric of Sarenrae gives him an apologetic smile, she was fully armoured and harbouring a mixed look of concern and relieve. “I know, I’m sorry Percy.” She begins, letting him bend down hug her form, she gives him a smile. “But I couldn’t wait, I’ve been getting horrible signs lately. I thought I’d check in and see if everyone was ok.” 

The white haired man gives her a charming smile back, stepping out of the workshop so they might walk and talk as they begin to ascend the stairs to the main castle. “Everything is fine, if not a little odd. It’s been a strange week, Pike.“ Rubbing his eyes she listens patiently. “I had messaged Allura about some books but she hadn’t found anything yet. I’m juggling a slew of odd behaviours reported in my Pale Guard and between Grog’s sudden new wife and Vex’ahlia’s greedy panicking about splitting potential party funds with said wife, it’s been quiet a day...week.” 

“Grog’s what!?” 

Oh.....right. She didn’t know about that...

Percy begins to calmly explain the events of the last week as they walk. Telling the tale that Yvette had told of their romantic meeting and supposed marriage some months ago. He explains the books he and Tary had found on Tribe Traditions and how Grog had begged him not to contact her. How they had found a loophole to save their barbarian friend. Pike listens but she looks mad with every new addition to the long tale, her sweet Gnomish face puffed up in irritation and worry. Gosh Grog can be an idiot! She loved him but by Sarenrae the man was thicker then oatmeal! 

“Oh I am going to have words with him! Thank you for telling me, Percy.”

They emerge to the top of the stairs into a darkened hallway of the castle, lighting and thunder crash loudly overhead but Pike’s ethereal form was enough to illuminate their way. A sense of familiar dread begins to crawl over her spine and the small cleric farrows her tiny brow, looking around.

“Percy look!” She points an armoured finger over to the open hall across the way. “Is that blood?” They wonder over curiously, the human man grabbing a candle off the nearby stone wall and striking it to life. They bend down and inspect what appears to be a bloody footprint, it was faint but obvious against the white stone floor. Unfortunately neither could tell what direction it was heading in but it did appear it had come from the large unguarded doors to the undercroft, the Ziggurat! They give each other a worried look and Pike strides forward to open the door in question experimentally, it gives away easily, swinging open. No traps and certainly not locked. Where were the guards?

“Percival! What luck!” The two turn to see a familiar Half Elfish Ranger striding towards them with a candle in hand, Trinket in tow, as well as a pair of worried Pale Guard! She’s got her bow slung over her night gown, looking tired but in charge. “Pike! Hello dear!” Her face softens momentarily at the wonderfully warm sight of her Gnome friend. “Welcome to the party.”

“What party is that, my love?” Percy asks curiously, pointing at the bloody print on the floor. “ It wouldn’t happen to involve this, now would it?” 

She gives him a wink. “It does, in fact. I’ve been just recently awoken with reports that these fine folks.” She gestures to the two Guards flanking her formally. “Heard a scrap down below while guarding the entrance to our lovely Pyramid of marble death. That would explain the blood I suppose. I’ve come to have a look and see if I can’t figure out what the devil has happened.” 

“Perfect!” Pike pipes up with a smile, unclasping her mace just to be sure. “Lets go down together, maybe we’ll find some clues! It could be more undead! Or someone could be injured!”

“We didn’t see anyone, Mistress Pike, but it is quite dark, it’s certainly possible we missed them.” 

They all begin to descend together curiously, weapons drawn. Everything was just a little too queer for their liking, the timing of Pike’s sudden arrival alongside the even more sudden reports of blood and violence down below. It did not sit well in their stomaches at all....

A loud crack of thunder echoes across the darkened sky as the large doors to the tomb below close slowly behind them.

“I have a bad feeling about this you guys.”

...

 

“Aggghh! Baator yes!” Yvette’s eyes roll back in pleasure, her arms gripping onto the mighty Goliath man above, long nails digging into his grey flesh. Her moans are a mixture of pure delight and agony and she loves it, relishing in the pain and pleasure that washes over her like an earthquake with every hard thrust. Her meat suit’s tiny body twitches and jerks forward on the mattress violently with every lusty collide of their hips, the kindly elvan vessel struggling to accomodate his massive manhood. She knows she is bleeding, her virginity blown apart and her flower stretched far beyond its’ safe limits for her first time. He was just too large, too rough, too barbarian. She bites her lips harder and tastes her own blood, knuckles white as she cuts ribbons down his hard back. He hisses in pleasure at the sting, droplets of crimson running down his tattooed spine. 

“Agghhh! Husband!” She is loud for him and he loves it, leaning down he kisses her neck like a blood starved vampire, grunting hotly in her ear with pleasure every time he pulls out and slams his way back inside her. Grog places one massive hand under her head supportively, thick fingers tangling themselves in her halo of thick blond hair. The other wonders to hold down her small waist in a loving attempt to quell her discomfort. He can feel the outline of his own massive dick moving inside her and it was erotic and encouraging, spurring him on. He felt so damn good, this fake wife of his was beautiful and perfect and oh so sexy every time she screamed his name amongst the rolling thunder above. In turn the lighting flashes brightly outside his widow as if responding to their pleasure, lighting up the room, lighting up them in a haze of bright, hypnotic white. The candle dances in rhythm to their hot sweating bodies, to the ornate bed posts as they sway and groan in protest. Stormy winds blow into their chamber from the open balcony, cooling their mixed, fiery flesh but doing nothing to dampen their throws of unbridled passion. Their lust.

“Agghhhhh!” Grog roars loudly in delight, doubling his pace and hearing her release a breath of sobbing whimpers from under him before they crumble into needy moans. She grips him harder now, for dear life as if she was afraid she may drown in his pleasure. Something familiar but so very different builds up inside of her soul and it is not long until Yvette’s blond head is falling backwards uselessly as she lets her first powerful, almost painful orgasm wash her away. It was like lighting from the raging storm above had struck her in the best way possible, sending sparks of wonderful electricity through her veins! Powerful, painful but oh so good! 

“Ooohh, uhhhhgg!” Oh Hells! Oh wow! Her mind goes blank for but a moment and she buckles uselessly under his giant form, riding out her hazy state of pleasure. He continues to thrust hard into her, her thin arms falling away uselessly. The elvish woman’s chest rising and falling as she desperately tries to remember how to make her meat suit breath! Mouth a gape with stunned delight. Well well, seems this idiot is good for one thing at least....

“Mmmmmmm, yes....” It has been some time since she has felt that brain melting, bone quaking, powerful kind of ecstasy like that. She may just have to take this brute with her in her future endeavours if he continues to fuck like that! 

“Ahh.......H-husband....”

Blue eyes widen with dizzy shock as the strong grip on her thighs returns much harder then ever before. It was painful and sure to leave deep, ugly purple bruises on her milky flesh as the hot Goliath above struggles to remain somewhat gentle with every step closer to that primitive, ecstasy filled edge. Grog forced her legs upwards, touching her quivering knees to her small, fast falling chest as his rhythm gets uneven and pace faster still. The grey barbarian was so fucking close, a hot coil of carnal energy begins to bubble and boil in the pit of his stomach. Pleasure beyond anything he has felt in some time begins to break loose and suddenly his mind is a familiar, hazy mine field of red and crimson. Similar to that relentless blood rage he beckons forth in battle, he lets his scarred, tattooed body take over all motions as he hits his own orgasmic ending. 

“AGGHHHH!” Like a feral animal he groans in delight before he is throwing his head back and roaring out victoriously to the storm, spilling his hot seed deep inside her before leaning down to kiss her mouth, claiming her as his prize! They are both breathing heavily, panting hard as his wild thrusts begin to slow with fatigue until they come to a jerking halt, he pulls out of her slowly and she shivers, her legs twitching still before he collapses onto the struggling mattress beside her. Muscles suddenly way too tired, he had never experienced such exhaustion after sex before! But here it was, and only one round in! He would feel ashamed, if it hadn’t been so epic! 

GROG ‘PEANUT BUTTER’ STRONGJAW, KING OF THE SEXY TIMES!

“Wow......husband......” She rolls to her side and smiles weakly up at him with those same large kindly eyes producing small tears ever now and then. Grog puts a strong, thick arm around her tiny, trembling body and draws her closer for a long, tired kiss. A free hand reaches down to thumb her abused entrance loving, apologetically rubbing it like an animal would a wound as they lay entangled together, catching their breath. 

“That. Was. Awesome.” 

 

....

The de Rolo crypt is dark, cold and depressing as they descend the dilapidated stone stairs into its bowls. They spread out and begin to scour the ancient tomb for signs of life both friendly and not. Weapon in hand and glowing faintly, Pike can feel that uneasy sensation on her back growing. Something was building, it was not good, not friendly. 

“Where is Captain Remus? If I recall he’s meant to be down here, stationed at the Ziggurat’s magical boundary.” Percy asks curiously as he takes his candle and moves it along the cracked and crumbling walls, searching. The Pale Guard by his side, sword drawn is apologetic.

“I’m sorry Ser, we don’t know. I did try to report the noise to him first, but he was nowhere to be found.” 

“Hmm, well let-

“Look!” Vex cuts them off from across the long, stone chamber, she crouches by the stairs they had just descended, Trinket sniffing curiously by her side. “More bloody tracks. They lead upwards, something has left recently.” 

“The Captain perhaps?” Percy inquires with a queer glance downwards, his boot falling into a semi dried, quite large puddle of what looks like blood. Oh how crass, he points it out to everyone and their small Cleric wonders over. 

“Very well, let me....”

Pike closes her eyes and takes a steady breath to calm her nerves, she reaches out with her mind, into the warm, loving void of the Ever Light’s faith. Clutching her holy symbol she calls for help, aid in finding any shred of good or evil. Asking humbly for guidance. She feels soft, warm hands on her cheeks as they guid her face, her vision over to Percival, beyond him, to the cracked stone sarcophagus at his side. She whispers a soft, sincere thanks to her lady.

“There, open it. I....I think there’s something...” She marches over quickly, that unease growing with every step, the rest of her friends following supportively and help as she grabs the thick stone slab top and pushes with all her might. With a grinding rumble the lid opens only slightly, the musty smell of rot and the iron stench of blood erupts to meet them. Pike holds her breath, letting out a sound of surprise, covering her mouth. Vex leans over her shoulder, face a mixture of sad and disgusted, she places a kind palm on her friends tiny armoured shoulder.

“Well, it looks like we found the Captain. Oh how terrible, who or what could have done such a thing!? He looks absolutely gruesome!” She looks to her husband for answers, Percival has his back turned, his demeanour serious as he makes plans with urgency. Speaking to his Pale Guard he instructs them to alert the castle and lock it down. To double their men at the mysterious Ziggurat and not allow anyone to leave or enter. Oh course he doubled the guard at his sisters side too, never too be more careful! They bow to him politely and begin jogging back upwards to the castle, gripping their blades.

“This is serious...” Pike states slowly, placing her hand on the bloody armour of the dead captain lightly. “He....he isn’t just dead. He.....his soul is, gone. It never passed on.....I don’t understand.....” The kindly Gnome is speaking more to herself now, eyebrows farrowed in confusion. “ I......I can’t speak to him you guys....he’s empty.” 

“Empty....like....how?” Vex asks curiously, holding the flickering candlelight close to the glittering, pale armoured corpse. “Wouldn’t his soul be.....like with his god?” 

“Normally.....yes, but I can’t even call forth his soul to speak with me. His soul isn’t with a god Vex, it’s gone...vanished.” 

“Eaten, perhaps?” Percy adds coolly from over his shoulder, bending down in the shadowed corner. He scoops up the crimson soaked nightgown and inspects it before showing his friends. It is cold and heavy with blood as he slaps it down on the tombs surface for Trinket to sniff. “I’m guessing the Captain made for a messy meal. This is my sisters gown, look.” The white haired gunslinger points to the embroidery on the collar, soft blue and gold flowers run along it elegantly, a simple pattern Cassandra had put into most of her clothes when she was younger, to separate them from her siblings in the wash. “Or it was, she hasn’t worn stuff like this since she was younger, smaller.”

Realisation strikes Vex hard across the face, like a sharp slap her eyes go wide with fear and she grips her husbands arm to steady herself. “Small like an elf!?” Her voice is high, alarmed. They both give her a look. “Percival! Your sister and I gave Yvette clothing for her stay! Darling!” She squeezes him hard and his eyes go wide to match hers. Realisation sinking in hard.

Oh devils no! Surely not! 

“Yvette!?” He asks desperately, bewildered. Pike is confused.

“Who!?” 

“Yvette! Grog’s wife!” Vex explains with raising worry, moving away from the tomb towards the exit stairs. “Oh I knew it! I just! Agghhh! This is why we have trust issues!” 

They follow behind her, pace quickly increasing with their raising fear and tension. They had to find Grog and Tary and stop this woman before she kills again! Fear and worry bubble in Pike’s fast beating heart for her big friend. 

“I’ll go fetch Tary.”

“I’ll get Grog.” 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Light, fumbling kisses, sloppy and tired are planted like seeds along her bare breasts. The hulking, grey skinned Goliath holds the tiny elvan lass against his tattooed chest as they lay entangled together on his small bowing bed. He is oh so tired, the storm raging above he wants nothing more but to rest, close his eyes and snore off into oblivion. But she was just so.....there, beside him. So touchable, so kissable and after the extreme lust and ecstasy filled moment they had just shared together not so long ago, Grog did not want it to be over. It was fun and if they fell asleep with her afterwards then they would be for real married, for real! Tary had warned him not to do that, not to sleep with her. So he wouldn’t! He was very tired....

She had him where she wanted him. He was obsessed with this meat suit just enough that soon she would capture him, entrap him to her whim! Oh she shivered at the idea! Making him murder, pillage and torture in her Master’s name, oh Baator it made her hot. It would not be long now....the spell would soon take hold...

Yvette kisses his capped lips softly before pulling away and standing from the groaning bed, stretching and looking out that large, open balcony window to the dark Whitestone Courtyard below. 

“Husband?”

Grog’s eyes trace her naked, narrow back as she holds onto the thick open curtains and takes a deep breath. It was late and the rain had long extinguished any stray candle flame that attempted to light the way through the gardens below. A cold wind blows into their chamber with a bitter bite, carrying frost and rain at its fingertips which dance across their flesh. 

“Wot?” 

The golden haired elf turns to smile at him from over a small shoulder, kindly and ever so sweet. Sugar sweet. “Would you allow me to be bold? To ask you for a humble request?” She walks over to her discarded cloak that lay in a pile on the stone floor at the foot of the bed and bends to pick up her green glass shard, rolling it over her fingers as she leans up against the bedpost, eyes never leaving his. Grog thinks for a minute, scratching his chin. 

“Uhhh....it depends....” The Barbarian stands heavily from the bed, stretching himself before he strides around the mattress to her side. A sudden urge, a neediness for her touch overflowing within him, like cold creeping hands that tug at his soul. It is unfamiliar to the great Barbarian, he did not want it.....but he liked it because he liked her, needed her.... He grabs her small waist with a massive hand and pulls her in for a deep kiss, hungry for her taste. It was addictive and like many things, he did not know why! Like the sweetest mead or eggyest Mayo he could consume it all day! But he liked it and that’s all that mattered! “On what it is...” He finishes with a low rumble.

She laughs coolly, breathing heavily and mouths inches apart from one another. Foreheads touching as his strong arms envelop her, lift her up so she might scramble to clutch onto him, wrap her arms and legs around him for support. She kisses him deeply once more, feeling him melt under the uncharacteristic dominance of her strawberry and iron tongue. “Would you.....kill for me, husband?” She wonders with a low hiss, sexy and seductive, tiny hands running down his broad chest playfully as he held her. He gives her a sly, barbarian smile. Cocky and full of lusty pride.

“I’m.....good at killin stuff...” He grows with feral intent, moving to push her up against the old, wooden bedpost harshly. She lets out a gasp of pain as he ravishes her soft lips hungrily, body so tired but screaming for more, MORE! 

“ I....would kill for anyone love...” 

She returns his devilish smirk, placing her arms upwards to hold onto the post supportively. “Are you saying you love me, Grog Strongjaw?” She teases him, biting her lip cheekily, cheeks red and squeezing the glass shard slightly, imbuing it with mystic energy. He gives a deep rumbling chuckle, large hands sliding down her pale, womanly frame slowly to cup her buttocks, squeezing it and forcing her tiny quivering thighs to open for him, revealing his prize. A wave of fresh want washes over his powerful form, supernatural and tiring. Yvette’s meat suit is wet for him still, mind screaming for the demon to let her go. 

“I’m saying....I love this.....” He thrusts up inside her forcefully and she cries out with pleasure, nails scraping the wood desperately, glass shard in hand glowing now as her head drops back. Grog begins to pound up into her tiny, moaning form with heated rhythm, loving her tight hot body and how his trembled and clenched around him with need. He is working up a fast, blissful pace, unspeakable pleasure rolling over them in waves. He loved it, he loved her body! It felt amazing and good and awesome and-

BANG! BANG! 

Two large, urge knocks erupt through the dimly lit chamber before his heavy door is being thrown open with immense force! The pair stop abruptly with surprise, eyes wide. 

“GROG!” Pike’s small astral form stands in the doorframe, hands on her armoured hips with rage and disappointment on her face. She sees the two of them in the midst of their impassioned love making and her face goes beet red, but her expression does not change. “GET AWAY FROM HER RIGHT NOW!” 

“PIKE!?” Grog is stunned, eyes wider then ever as he looks between the woman he’s fucking so heatedly against the old bedpost and his childhood friend with bewildered surprise. What!? How!? Oh it’s his best buddy Pike! Oh, he’s in trouble! Yvette’s eyes narrow to slits as she stares over his large shoulder at the glowing Gnome cleric with disgust. What an utterly terrible intrusion! How dare this maggot impede upon there moment together!? She was so close to enthralling his idiot of a man to her side indefinitely! A personal, mountain of a bodyguard to help her watch the world burn! To help her squeeze and bathe in the blood from every damned mortal on this trash plane! She had been so very close! Wasted! 

“YOU HEAR ME GROG, GET AWAY FROM HER!” The white haired maiden warns once more, holding out her crackling mace of disruption in the demon witch’s direction. “Put some pants on!”

“But...Pike...”

“We’re a little, busy right now, Cleric.” The naked woman spits venomously, wiggling her bruised hips and moaning in her husbands ear softly, hotly. “Keep going, love, I need you...” Gripping his muscular shoulders encouragingly but Grog’s hips remain still, face confused and staring down at his bestest buddy. 

“Grog.....” Pike warns as she takes a step towards them both, face serious in a way that was....well serious! Grog loved Pike, he trusts her with everything and would always do whatever she says! Because she was the best! Kind and sweet and just real....Pikey! But he liked Yvette too....she was tiny and sexy and lets him have sex.... she was his wife....fake wife and the urge to be with her was so overwhelming....he liked feeling good...

But Pike.....

“Ok....” The large man finally gives in, confused but blindly accepting of his friend’s wishes he begins to pull out of Yvette slowly. Yvette growls with annoyance, seething rage on her face directed at the tiny Gnome. 

What a shame. She had really liked this big dumb stupid behemoth, too bad. He dies with the rest of them. 

“I’m disappointed, husband.”

As Grog pulls out completely and attempts to let her down gently, Yvette clings to the bedpost and rears her naked body backwards with ease. She slams both her bare feet into his scarred chest with tremendous, unnatural force and her hard kick sends him flying backwards into his tiny best friend. Crashing together loudly, both giving a cry of surprise and pain as the two clatter and skid back into the Whitestone hallway, colliding with the hard wall in a mixed heap. 

“PIKE! GROG!” Percy sees them in a tangled pile from further down the darkened hall and begins to run in their direction, gun cocked and face worried. Oh this was happening! In his own fucking castle, how utterly rude! 

“Ow! That hurt!” Grog groans, rubbing his dizzy head, he looks at Pike who is groaning and clutching her side, winded slightly, before looking back into the dim room with a angry stare. 

“Come here husband! We need to talk!” His fake wife taunts at him with a cruel smile. Sour, bitter.

Yvette jumps down to the stone floor and hisses at them both with vicious malice, the flames of the candlelight casting ominous shadows across her naked form as she begins to stalk towards them both. What was happening!? He was so confused! And sore! 

“Hey!” Pike roars unevenly at the encroaching elvan witch through baited breath, using the glowing mace to help her stumble uneasily to her feet. “Stay away from my Grog!” The small Gnome throws out a gauntleted hand and a crackling bolt of holy radiant energy shoots forth, colliding into her bare torso and pushing the other woman backwards with great force and leaving a sparking target across her body for her friends. Yvette hisses in horrid pain as the radiant energies burns across her meat suit’s flesh, eyes narrowing she throws out her palms, a dark green magical energy starts to buzz and crackle dangerously in her grasp. Her pale chest stained in black, sizzling flesh that flakes into charred chunks. Fucking holy servants! How dare she! 

“I’ll kill you both and burn this DISGUSTING TOWN TO AN ASH HEAP!” She spits, her kindly voice wobbling and giving way to a deeply layered, demonic harmony of mixed common with infernal undertones. Grog is so very tired, but he pulls himself upwards, using the stone wall to help him stand. His chest was hurting far more then it should, it hurt to breath too deeply and he was sure something was broken...

“Sarenrae and I won’t let that happen!” The Gnome was just and defiant in her faith and conviction, it was gross and irritating. The elf whispers a spell and commands her distant Pale Guard thrall to her location, to bring the Residuum Shard to the darkened courtyard at the back of the castle right away! In the meantime, she would cripple these cockroaches!

“Perish!”

With a wicked, enraged screech, Yvette releases her bolt of necrotic power towards them both, Pike rising her shield upwards to block it. The energy blast goes wide and slams with tremendous destructive force into the wall above them as Percy rounds the doorframe, skidding across the stone floor just in time. He takes 2 skilled shots at the demoness as he does, piercing one of her meat suits arms with bleeding, gaping wounds just enough to send her aim off balance! She laughs hysterically at all of their pathetic mortal attempts, oh they think they have chance against her! The white stone wall above rumbles and disintegrates slightly with sickly energy from her powerful attack, stone bits and dust crumbling over their bodies. That was close!

Oh she hated them all, so very much! She had been so very carful! How did they figure her out!? It was amusing and infuriating all at once! They were useless blood sacks, mortals! How!?

“AAGGHHHHH!”

Grog rushes forward with a roar of rage, feeling the blood in his veins get hotter as he sees nothing but red, anger dulling his pain as he focuses on the woman that had seemingly tricked them all. He didn’t understand it, but she had just tried to kill them! Kill Pike! He’ll rip her fucking head off! He bolts forward through the doorframe, rushing past both of his white haired friends towards his Blood Axe, ready to calve her in half! 

“Grog! Wait!” Percy calls after him hopelessly from outside in the hall, giving Pike a look of worry. This woman was obviously dangerous, they had to be careful for Pelor’s sake! They had to stall until Vex, Tary and the rest of the Pale Guard arrive as backup! 

Yvette spins on her feet with a wild laugh, clutching her bleeding limb she runs from her inbound, raging Goliath husband towards the open balcony. Percy fires another round into the chamber towards her fleeing form, she ducks and the bullet scatters across the stone loudly. Pike rushes in after her half giant friend, shield up just to be sure as Grog grabs the hilt of his mighty axe and charges, butt naked after her also. She escapes onto the balcony, heavy rain and icy wind drenching her immediately as she glances below quickly, her keen sight cutting through the darkness. Her Pale Guard slave is waiting amongst the deepest shadows, standing stoic in place and awaiting her next command, Residuum shard in hand.

“Aagghhhhh!” Grog bounds out into the rain after her, swinging wilding with his mighty weapon in her direction. She dodges what would be a fatal blow to her meat suit’s throat and leaps off the stone ledge. Laughing as she plummets into darkness she jumps from the highest tower of Whitestone castle to the gardens waiting below. 

“Vex! She’s on the run! Courtyard gardens!” Percy informs through his earring, panting as he runs into the chamber after his friends and reloading his gun nimbly. 

“Were on my way dear!” 

Grog doesn’t wait, with a mighty Barbarian roar, he leaps off the ledge after his wife. 


	9. Chapter 9

Loud snaps can be heard through the icy whistling breeze as her legs, arms and back break into grotesquely mangled pieces upon impact with the courtyard below. Not a bad result considering she had just thrown her meat suit from what could possibly be the highest room in the Whitestone Castle. Yvette curses under her breath, her voice wheezing from the shattered, protruding rib cage erupting from her chest but still her hidden Pale Guard is by her broken side in an instant, bending down to await her order. She hears a mighty barbarian roar from above and wastes little time kissing her thrall deeply, sucking his life essence and soul hungrily from his body with her dislocated, bloody mouth. Her broken, twisted bones begin to shape and shift, cracking back into place before her torn bloody flesh begins to sew itself back together. Jaw and arm sockets popping back into place she stands, using the husk of a guard for support, her naked body and golden hair covered in rain and crimson. The demon takes the Residuum shard from his limp grasp and spins in her place just in time to avoid the mighty impact of the raging Goliath that falls from the storming sky. Grog leaves a crater in the wet earth beneath him and can barley feel the pain of it all, he was sure something was broken now! But he did not care, he saw only red and rage, to destroy this deceiver where she stands!

“Keep her busy, Grog!” Percy yells from the stone balcony above, activating his boots of spider climbing and stepping out onto the castle’s exterior wall, slick with rain. He loads his gun and starts to take gun shots into the darkness below, his human eyes not suited to such a battle despite her glittering form. Pike in on the ledge now as well, rain sizzling off her glowing divine form as she scrambles onto the railing and jumps after her best buddy. She closes her eyes and whispers a prayer as she plummets quickly downwards in her heavy armour. It is not a second later does her glowing shield begin to emit a soft hum, the feather fall spell within it embracing her form like a soft, caring hand as she starts to float gently to the courtyard below. Percy runs vertically downwards next to her, rummaging through his rain soaked coat frantically to produce his daylight lantern, perhaps this would help him hit the awful creature! 

“ARRGHHHH!!” Grog’s mighty roar is heard by all and the thunderous sound of his titan stone knuckles being slammed together harshly soon follows. The mighty man grows mightier as his grey, tattooed form swells and enlarges with magic, dwarfing the elvan lass even more if possible. His blood axe comes down in a hard swing in her fleeing direction, missing her body but the screeching howl of air from its closeness was exciting indeed! Yvette is grinning from ear to ear. 

“COME BACK HERE!” He roars angrily, her giggles are infuriating and evil on his ears, he begins to take chase. 

An arrow whizzes past the Barbarian’s muscular shoulder, imbedding itself into the feeing form of the nude elf. As the arrow sinks itself deep into her pale flesh, it explodes into a writhing mass of green vines and thorns, wrapping themselves tightly around her legs, torso and arms. She stumbles and falls, rolling head over heels until she comes to a stop face down in a muddy heap, restrained. Unmoving. 

“Stay down, or the next one is going between your eyes, dear!”

Vex’ahlia with Taryon and Doty appear from the castle at one of the many entrances to the large courtyard, still not adorning armour but flanked by a frazzled looking Trinket. 

“Nice shot!” The blond man praises, nudging his half elvan friend happily. She gives him a cocky smile before they turn to focus on their quarry. Grog slides to a halt in the mud, he is on guard but is unsure how to proceed, breathing heavily he waits patiently for the green light from Vex to chop her head off. Patience was a hard skill to master when you were as angry as him.

Pike and Percy reach the ground now and rush over to their grey skinned friend, weapons raised. Vex and Tary do the same, instructing their loyal bear to fan out. They surround Yvette’s unmoving, face down form defensively, Percy going so far as to rip the Residuum Shard from her tangled grasp. Still, she is silent.

“So this is what you came for? I’m almost impressed, if I wasn’t so disappointed.” The de Rolo man states formally, rolling the green glass over in his palm before he places it in his pocket. 

“Did you really think you were going to kill the Captain and we wouldn’t find out!? Our Guard have this castle on lock down, you escape us here and I promise a hundred men are waiting with swords just for you.” Vex spits threateningly, notching another arrow, Trinket grows. “What do you want with the Residuum!?” She demands, voice cold and ruthless like the hunter she was. She gets no answer from her prey and she scowls dangerously. AND AFTER HOW NICE SHE WAS TO THIS BITCH!? 

“You’re not Grog’s wife either.” Tary ads, stepping in before his little elf girl explodes with rage, this thing might be evil but he could at least try to be polite. “Who are you really?!”

Yvette’s limb shoulders quake violently and small gasps of air escape her bloody lips. Vox Machina give each other a queer look at the sound of her sobs before Vex kicks the entangled elf onto her back with her bare foot. The blond woman rolls to stare up at them, eyes to the storming sky, rain falls heavily over her, uncontrollable laughs and giggles erupting from her twisted, evil face. Her blue eyes are just slits as she trains them on the large, mostly naked barbarian.

“I’m misses Strongjaw, or I am now....” She purrs seductively, receiving a swift warning kick from Vex, she hisses up at her in return. “Oh don’t be mad.....it was just a bit of fun. I’ve got what I want, now I’m hoping you’ve got this pathetic mortal body of mine pregnant, I do love the taste of freshly born soul.” She laughs once more at their disgusted expressions and Pike is worried all over again, this....thing...is obviously inhabiting this elvan lass, the aura it gives is beyond evil...but what of this poor woman’s body!? She knew Vox Machina had a bad reputation for dealing with possession, or possessed people. Heck when one of them got possessed in the very same Whitestone Undercroft, they had just beat them to near death before the spirit had been revealed! This woman could be an innocent for all they knew! Pike had to help in anyway she could. 

“Who are you, really?” The Gnome Cleric steps forward, kneeling down near the bound monster. Her voice is kindly as she reaches out a glowing hand, the blond hisses and tries to shrink away. Spitting in her direction. 

“I’ll kill you, disgusting mortal! Whore of the gods!”

“Pike...” Percy warns protectively, placing his hand in his smaller friend just in case. They were in unknown territory.

Pike gives her a smile still, calming that grating, low demonic voice. “Shhhh......it’s ok, who are you?” She asks agin, tracing her fingers over that bloody, muddy face. Steam rises off the flesh and Yvette screams and curses at the radiant touch. Buckling in her restraining, thick vines, some of which snap at her strength and everyone but Pike and Percy take a step backwards to safety, weapons drawn. Through the steam and the haunting curses and screams, tears and weak sobs begin to spill from the blond elf’s large eyes. 

“T...thank....you......” A kindly, womanly voice whispers amongst the crashing rain and thunder, barley audible but great fullnonetheless. “My name is...Yvette Griefheart.....I..I’LL EAT YOUR FLESH, MORTAL!” Hissing once more but Pike is unmoving in the face of such evil, her confidence high with her friends at her back. She holds her holy symbol and is comforted by its warmth, protection.

“Let Yvette go. I’m sure it’s hard for you, living in such a weak body. Come on out, let’s talk.” She encourages, smiling still. “I don’t want to force you, but I will if you make me.” 

“Pike....be careful dear.” Vex warns calmly, reading her bow. Yvette snarls at the glowing Gnome with pure, unbridled fury. Voice a gurgling mount of tones, all deep and evil she laughs.

“MAKE ME!? MaKe Me!? I’ll show you what you want, you pathetic welp! I’ll slaw the flesh form your bones and eat your soul!” Yvette begins to buckle violently in her restraints, the loud snapping of vines and thorns tearing away like tissue paper sets everyone on edge as they get ready to attack, Pike holds up her hand for patience. Not yet, if there was a way to seperate the two, she wants to try it. 

“I’LL KILL YOU ALL!” 

“PIKE, LOOK OUT!” Percival yells with surprise as the last of the vines fall away and the horrid sound of tearing flesh erupts into the stormy air. The Gunslinger grabs his heavy, Gnome friend by the back of her armour and pulls her out of harms way just in time! That elvan form, lithe and tiny starts to buckle and whine before there is a high shriek of pain and anguish and they all watch in horror as a nightmarish transformation takes place before them. 

Her body shakes violently before the flesh along her spine tears open from nape to tailbone with a sickly, bloody sound. Like an invisible zipper had just opened, exposing her bloody rib cage bones and spine just as they all snap apart loudly; a massive inky shadow forcing its way out of its current corpse. Yvette’s body falls forward into the mud, dead and broken as that inky demon, darker then the night itself begins to swell larger and large until it starts to take solid form. Vex lets loose her notched arrow and curses as it glides through its gas form untouched, splintering on the stone wall in the distance. 

The form it takes in enormous and grotesque to behold, a swollen, bloated female torso covered in sharp spines sits atop a writhing, barbed mass of tentacles and toothy mouths. It is a hairless, warped, purple skinned demon the likes none had ever seen before, it towered above them all, 15 feet in terrifying height as all of its multiple toothy mass scream into the rain. 

Fear rushes over Tary, Trinket and Percival, cold and gripping their hearts at such a sight and shrill scream, their legs buckle slightly. The creature gives a booming laugh, it’s large, sharp purple tentacles swinging wildly, threateningly. 

Taryon backs away, fumbling with one of his coins he squeezes it and releases a blast of icy magic towards the terrifying creature. Crackling icy frost freezes one of its slimy, barbed tentacles solid and it screech’s angrily in his direction, the blond’s eyes go wide and he casts sanctuary on himself before hiding behind his large, metallic friend. Nope! 

“ARRGGHHH!” Grog rushes forward in a haze of red, hungry for the battle he loved. He dodges a whipping, sharp tentacle and brings the blood axe down hard on the frozen appendage. It shatters and breaks off loudly, the demon’s scream is wicked on all of their ears, causing pain to flash behind all of their eyes and blood to leak from their ears as they clutch their heads. The creature retaliates and with a mighty slam, it bludgeons the large Barbarian hard, sending him flying backward into a column. 

“Grog!” Pike calls with worry but has no time to reach him, throwing up her shield as toothy limbs assault her from all sides, the reach on this demon far and deadly. She rushes towards the creature in question, rolling and fending off blow after blow until she is close enough to find that broken elvan corpse lying bloody amongst the disgusting writhing mass. 

“Cover her!” Vex screams out across the yells and thunder, firing two arrows that sink into the creatures side, exploding into shards and earning its terrifying attention, black acidic blood spraying across the wet, dark battlefield. It sizzles and burns their flesh but Percy follows her lead, taking multiple shots with his pistol. He blows gaping bullet wounds into those thick, deadly tentacles and watches them twist away from his little friend. Pike collects the corpse and begins to drag it through that forest of writhing terror to safety, that foul smelling blood falls over them like the rain, she holds her shield high to attempt to protect them both. A massive barbed limb stricken her in the back as she escapes slowly, dinting her armour, those spiked mouths cutting her flesh underneath it and she can feel the warmth of her own blood spread across her back. She stumbles and watches as Trinket rushes to her side, still terrified the bear grabs the corpse in his mouth and helps pull it across the battlefield, allowing the glowing Gnome to guard herself from the incoming attacks correctly and follow him to safety. 

“One more time, my big friend!” Tary calls out, peeking out from behind Doty he releases another flash of icy magic, larger then the last it crystallises over the demons bloated side and many dangerous tentacles. Grog rushes forward with a roar, shaking his dizzy head he charges weapon in hand, leaping over attacks until, he can plunge his massive axe into the icy creature! Chunks of frozen gore and flesh fall away revealing a black, stream of poisonous blood. It coats his grey skin and it sizzles painfully, but still he swings again, carving upwards and relishing in the demons screams. It picks up the attacking barbarian in one of its appendages, squeezing him far too tightly, the spikes ripping his flesh and muscle before Grog roars in agony through his rage. Fresh crimson flows down his broad chest like a waterfall of death.

“Drop him!” Percy takes a shot but it goes wide, his hand shaking with that same terrible fear. “Blast!” He curses, backing up and reloading. The demon throws Grog hard through the cold night air and he sails with a yell through the courtyard before colliding hard with Vex, who fires off only a single arrow, before the force of the impact is sending them both tumbling backwards over the stone and into a heap. Bloody and groaning. 

“Vex! Grog!” Taryon is panicking as he sends Doty in to distract the horrid monster, at least until their mighty Goliath recovers! 

Pike closes her eyes and prays to her goddess, blood covers her armour and runs from her ears and down her face. She reaches out to Sarenrae and asks for her assistance before placing a small collection of diamonds on this broken corpse. “Please...please, save this innocent, fix her broken form and call forth her soul back to us....” The glowing Cleric releases her holy revivify magic desperately. The diamonds shatter to dust and the corpse glows for but a moment. There is the sickly sound of flesh and bone forming into place as the summoned radiant light of Sarenrae sews her back together slowly. A moment passes and a small intake of breath is heard from the naked, bloody, unconscious woman and Pike lets out a relieved breath. Thank you my lady. 

“Watch over her buddy!” She instructs the big bear with a pat before she stands onto her feet and faces the ongoing battle. It is chaos. 

Grog and Vex are breathing heavily, blood stained and stumbling to their wobbly feet as Percy shakes, covered in his own blood and fails to hit the roaring beast, fear behind his glasses. Doty’s twisted metal body is taking a terrible beating as he tries to protect his master and Tary is just screaming....

Screams, yells and the horrific wet sound of this creature cover the battlefield.

Pike takes a deep steady breath, blocking out the destruction for the quiet calm her faith provides her. She rushes forward, mace crackling at the ready she prays upwards to the stormy sky above as she casts herself into a beacon of warm, encouraging hope for her surrounding, wounded friends to rally around her. Her glowing form glows brighter with a faint white column of holy light, it encases the area around her, warming the cold air, burning the falling rain away before it can reach the ground. She banged on her shield loudly, drawing the demons attention and the attention of her wayward friends.

“To me, Vox Machina!” 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Head pounding, body bruised and aching. Dehydrated and long starved. 

Yvette awakes slowly, tired and heavy her bruised, blue eyes flutter open to stare at the stone ceiling above, she winches at the head splitting pain behind her vision. Warm firelight fills the quiet room around her, casting long shadows that dance playfully at the edges of her painful vision, the soft crackle of burning wood loud in her ears. She’s alive...? How!? Everything hurt but she was alive! The small, broken elf takes a sharp, shallow breath inward and winces with bone quivering pain. She lay naked and bandaged in her large bed within the castle of Whitestone, grabbing her horridly bruised side she pulls herself slowly into a sitting position. There where no windows, she had no idea what time of day it was or how long she had been unconscious. Wincing all the way, she reaches over and grabs the pitcher of water by her bedside, filling a tankard and drinking it down deeply, relishing it the crisp taste. Oh how she missed being able to taste things, move her fingers freely....

She had died.

Her body was broken, pale flesh painted an ocean of deep purples and blues, bones shattered and healed unnaturally, abused and starved. But her body was her own once more, a victory. 

So why does she feel like she’s in last place? A loser. 

The last few months had been absolutely worse then hell, worse then any deeply conjured nightmare from the depths of a broken psyche while that....thing...had possessed her. She had done things....things she would regret until the day she dies. Watched in horror the abhorrent actions the she demon made her do.....made her watch...

Her hands are stained in red. 

She had been too weak to stop it, her willpower barely enough to keep her mind from breaking the moment it had taken her form, barley gripping and keeping ahold of her own sanity through the whole hollowing ordeal. 

She felt sick and dirty still.... 

Yvette just wanted to leave, get out of this place and return to her home, her tribe.

A soft knock at the large wooden door catches the blonde’s attention before it is being opened slowly. A kindly white haired Gnome steps inside with a smile, her body was shimmering like she wasn’t really there, translucent and heavenly. Her presence was warm and welcoming, an angel.

“Pike....?” Yvette wonders, voice crackly and strained. She remembers the name Grog had called her by. This tiny woman was a Cleric, if she remembers, a Cleric and her hero. 

She saved her soul.

“That’s me.” Pike walks in, holding a bowl of broth. “I’m glad you’re up, I thought we lost you for a hot minute there.”

Placing the broth by the bedside, Yvette is quick to claim it. Casting the wooden spoon aside and sipping the hot, delicious liquid hungrily until it was gone. It pooled in her belly, warming her core. Gods she was hungry! Pike smiled with doctor like pride before she sits on the bed calmly and starts to cast her golden, beautiful magic, a deep healing touch that washes over them both like a warm, loving light. The everlight. 

“Deep breaths, this won’t take long.”

The broken elf becomes less so, her bruises loosing their intense hue and her fractured bones shimmered to solid form. The pain was gone, faded to a dull ache until finally completely pain free, it was amazing. Yvette wondered if such magic could help her mind too, perhaps make her forget...or forgive herself. But she knew it was not the case, Magic was amazing and could do a lot, but it had its limits.

“Thank you....Pike....I...I’m so so sorry for this, all of this.” The blond croaked, she is sincere and oh so sad, guilty. The Gnome Cleric smiles. Yvette is struggling to keep her gaze, the delicate blond was awash with shame and regret, it was eating away at her. Pike pats her hand kindly with her own glowing one before she is standing off the bed and collecting the empty bowl.

“I know you are. And while it wasn’t your fault, I know that’s not what you want to hear.” 

Yvette nods, it’s true because everything felt like her fault. “Thank you....”

“You are Welcome, please try to get some rest.” The white haired woman begins to exit once more. “Oh.” She pauses mid stride, turning back to give the bed ridden elf one final smile. “I won’t be around when you decide to leave, I’m afraid my powers that keep me grounded here are fading, so I want you to wear this from now on, ok?” Producing a thin silver chain that ends in the majestic glowing symbol of the Everlight, Pike strides over and places it around the taller woman’s bruised neck kindly. Yvette inspects it with a curious expression. 

“It’s enchanted, don’t take it off. Demons, devils and monsters like that don’t die so easily, it will return with vengeance looking for you...trust me.....just don’t trust anyone else. This will keep you safe, my lady’s light will hide you from its gaze....”

Running her thumb over the amulet lightly, it was warm to the touch, like metal laying in sunlight. Comforting on her chest. 

“Thank you Pike.....” Yvette is barley able to form the words, blue eyes downcast in thought. She can’t return home if that is the case, it wouldn’t be safe for her or her tribe if she lingers. A wave of sadness washes over her bruised soul, she was alone in more ways then one now.

“You are very welcome!” There is a brief pause, barley noticeable as the plucky Gnome thinks about the best way to word her next thought. “Grog is still very upset with you, he doesn’t understand....just, don’t get frustrated with him...please.”

“Never......I would.....never.” 

“Thanks....goodbye Yvette.” 

“Bye Pike....” 

With that, the mysterious angel left her room, leaving her alone with her thoughts and tears. 

But still Serene’s touch lingers, the warmth of it all like a comforting friend’s hand on her shoulder. Yvette’s tribe was not very religious, they did not hyper focus their worship of the gods like so many in the cities did, instead they focused on survival and tribal tradition to fill their lives with purpose. But this.....after everything she had been through, this gave her pause.

Perhaps having faith in a higher body above was not so bad after all.

So she prayed, eyes closed atop the bed were she lay, she begged the light to show her forgiveness. 

 

.....

 

Dressing is easy with her new, freshly healed body. Yvette slides the thick burgundy tunic on over her pants and boots, buckling her belt, sheathing her dagger and hiding the glowing silver chain out of sight. She fills her bearskin travelling pack with an assortment of breads and cheeses, making sure not to rattle her healing herbs. Grabbing the thick treated wool cloak from her bed she heads towards her bedroom door. It had not been an hour after Pike had left, Yvette was tired but she could not wait here any more. She needed to get out, leave this place behind before she looses her mind with grief and guilt. She wanted to say goodbye, to apologise to her hosts for everything then disappear into the snow covered mountains beyond the wood, to live out her regretful depression. Forge a new path in life....or give up completely, she hadn’t quiet decided....but she had a few ideas. 

The amulet on her chest warm and encouraging.

The small elvan woman opens the heavy door in time to collide heavily with a large chested figure. Yvette yelps in surprise and stumbles backwards, landing heavily on the Whitestone floor. She looks up into the annoyed bearded face of a certain mighty Goliath Barbarian who standing in her way. Oh boy...well he has to be first. 

Her heart suddenly aches. Husband....

Grog looks down at her with a sneer, muscular arms crossed defensively.

“Where you going!? Sneaking off to hurt more people?” He accuses, his voice deep and upset. “Well good luck, I’m here to make sure you don’t hurt anyone ever again.” He enters the room, towing over her. His blood axe was strapped to his back, but his stance and body language screamed he was ready for a fight if he had to. So it was true, Grog really didn’t understand...

Yvette doesn’t stand, choosing to cross her legs on the floor patiently. “You’re here to end my life then? I deserve it I suppose, after what these hands have done.” She gives him a look and Grog can’t quiet identify it. Acceptance but also like....like she had to poop really bad... Also her voice was different, an accent she didn’t have before slipped through each syllable like butter, faint but different. 

“I should cut your head off, you hurt my family. You hurt me...you hurt Pike! You turned into a shadow thingy!” 

“I know, I’m so....so...deeply sorry for that, Grog.” The blond takes a deep breath to steady herself. “I was not myself.....I am so ashamed and...and....sorry. Do not forgive me, I don’t deserve that. Just know that I didn’t intend to hurt your family...or Pike...”

“Then why did you?” 

Gods he sounded beyond betrayed, it hurt her. Her break was u even but she calms herself with a slow breath, thinking over her next words carefully.

“I....lost control of myself. It was not my intention to hurt your family. An evil arose inside of me, I couldn’t stop it....I tried. I’m sorry.” 

Grog shuts the heavy door behind him before he turns back and gives her a suspicious look, narrowing his gaze as if to test the truth in her words. Alone together in this small room he bends down to one knee, scanning her small pale face. It was strange, it was the same beautiful face but so very different. There was no resolve or drive, no hidden intent behind a shy, sugar sweet exterior. No hunters instinct like the previous Yvette. This Yvette was....sad, weak....pathetic. Broken. 

It mad him angry.....and confused.

“Wot about me?” His question was intense and it catches her off guard, she looks taken aback for a moment as realisation dawns in her eyes. He glares. “Wot. About. Me?” Repeating himself he waits, refusing to break his intense gaze away from hers, holding her captive. 

“....I’m sorry Grog. I didn’t mean to hurt you, to play with you like that...I wanted our reunion to be special. I wanted to show up and...” Her breath is shaken and she tears her ashamed gaze away to look down at her hands, twisting them in a familiar, shy way. “I wanted to be the best wife to you that I could be, when we got married on the mountain that night I was so so happy to have found a mate that was big, strong and kind. When I lost myself to that “shadow thingy” and I had to watch her lie to you....be cruel to you...to...watch her.....make love to you....” Yvette’s cheeks are pink but she steels her nerves. “I was horrified, that wasn’t right. I’m so sorry.” 

Grog sits now, crossing his own thick legs across from her as he studies her face. He is stiff, his body language shouting his mistrust for her still but he nods, glare softening. He didn’t understand what she was talking about but he could tell she was sincere, she was sorry. He couldn’t forgive her, not yet. 

“Ok...good...I guess I dun have to kill you then.” He scratches his beard. “You leavin’?” He gestures to the travel bag in her lap.

“I am.”

“Where to?”

“I don’t know yet. Somewhere far far away perhaps?” 

“Far away is good.” 

A beat of silence passes between them, heavy and awkward and all Yvette can think about is how much she hates it, hates herself. How much she will miss her husband and how it breaks her heart to end it....she never even got to kiss him...not really. The real her never got to taste him, hold him......

All of that had been stolen from her, like many things in the past few months. Oh what she would give to kiss him, just once.....just to see what it was like....

“...can I kiss you?” Her bold question takes even herself off guard, did she really ask him that!? Oh gosh! Her face heats up. “Ugh I mean....” 

Grog gives her a confused look, raising a thick eyebrow down at the spluttering, panicking woman. 

“Wot...?” 

Her heart was beating fast in her chest as she scrambles to stand up quickly, dusting herself off and covering her embarrassed face. The big Goliath follows her, standing tall above her. He looks more confused then ever. 

“I’m sorry...I don’t know why I asked that, I shouldn’t have! I just... oh I guess I wanted to know what I was missing out on, never mind. We are divorced now! Sorry....I just...”

“Divorced...?”

“Ugh...no longer, married. Not mated.” She gestures between them and Grogs heart fills with relief, it felt amazing. Vex would no longer be mad at him, he was free! He didn’t have to play the role of fake husband any more, he didn’t have to hold her tiny hand and act cool and tough. He didn’t have to listen to her laugh at his jokes or be impressed with his strength and combat prowess! He didn’t have to kiss or touch her soft flesh anymore! He didn’t get to feel her shiver under him or scream his name in pleasure or watch her beautiful blue eyes twinkle and light up around him with love when she called him husband. Free. 

He was free. 

“Oh....good” 

She gives him a sad smile and reaches across to pat his big hands politely. “I will be leaving now, I’m deeply sorry for everything husba- Grog.” She walks around him towards the door, the fire crackling behind her loudly. 

“I dun care...I guess.” Grogs voice was low, confused but stupidly determined after the small woman, she falters and turns to look at him with equal confusion, fingers tracing the door knob. He is looking sheepish, huge body untrusting of her but his face...his eyes are warm. 

“What?” She wonders, turning to him curiously and looking up at him, her heart is beating faster still. She hates herself. 

“I dun care.” He repeats slowly as if that would clear up her confusion. “I can’t forgive ya, but.....I can kiss ya.....if you still want, I dun care.” He pauses briefly, face warm and scratching his beard. “Only cuz ya said it wasn’t you and you missed out....” 

She gives him a laugh, small and amused and it makes him feel big and cool. “It’s fine...Grog, we are not married anymore, I can live without knowing what it was like.” 

Grog is torn. He doesn’t understand everything, not completely. All he knows is this tiny woman was in love with him and they were married...fake married, then she tried to murder everyone, then a shadow demon thing exploded from her back and it was hard to kill. Now she’s sad and weak and sorry with a different voice. They are not married now and she wants to kiss him for what she claims will be her first time. But she’s leaving forever...by the gods he was so confused. He is not good at the smart stuff, thinking things through was for Percy. What he did know was instinct, he had great instincts! He didn’t trust her, he didn’t forgive her for hurting them and was happy to see her leave forever....but he also had this tough ball of emotion on his chest? It was weird! Like now that she’s leaving he wants something from her that he can’t describe, it infuriates him! He is drawn into her weak form now, like broken pride. He held this small woman naked in his arms for a night, the best night he has ever had with another while she called him hers, screamed his name with affection. They made love, hard hot sexy love, but still love. But she can not seem to claim it, stating they had not even shared a simple kiss between them. If felt wrong...and now that they were no longer mated, he refused to let her go like this. His barbarian pride would not allow it. He didn’t love her...but he wanted that claim on her....

“Well I can’t live with it...” The mighty Goliath reaches out and grasps her tiny wrist in his large hand before he yanks her hard towards him. Like air and feathers she flys into his bare, tattooed chest with a noise of surprise, her mouth opens to speak but he cuts her off with a deep, passionate kiss. Their lips move together slowly, drinking in each other’s taste for the first time all over again. Grog realises that bitter iron taste on her tongue no longer lingers, replaced with just that delicate strawberry sensation. Yvette’s mind goes blank as she falls deeper into his touch, his chapped lips tasting exactly like she imaged. Wicked hope begins to creep into her heart and she has to shove it aside.

“Mmmm...” She finds herself moaning and has to catch herself before it’s too late, this was dangerous. This was wrong, they were not mated any longer. He didn’t trust her and she had done terrible things to him. But she loved him, she still does. For her she will always be married to him, her feelings had not changed from the day they met atop that mountain, that giddy adoration for this big man rising upwards forever in her heart. But she did not deserve him, not now. Any potential relationship between then now was just not possible.

He lets her wrist go, one of his gauntleted hands twisting into her golden locks and forcing her head backwards in an attempt to deepen their rough kiss. The other going to grip her curvy hips and hold her in place as he collides their bodies closer in a desperate embrace. Yvette’s grips his muscular shoulders and neck and foolishly lets him, any sense of herself slipping away from her like falling asleep in a warm bath. She loves him....she loves him....

Their mouths the hot and wet as they work together with impassioned need, tongues dancing desperately, moans and panting escaping and growing louder as the room suddenly becomes unbearably hot around them.

A long moment passes and they finally seperate only slightly, breathing heavily and red faced they heave to fill their lungs, still tangled together. Thoughts running wild, Grogs hard manhood pressing against her navel through his battle leathers, obvious and shameless. A barbarian’s pride and a mighty declaration of what he wants. 

“Husband....” She whispers breathlessly, though she knows she is very wrong. He growls down at her and claims her soft, quivering lips once more in his own hungry ones, that strange ball of emotion in his chest expanding rapidly.

Her aching heart skips a beat.....they shouldn’t do this, it was wrong, it was over....

Regret washes over the short elf’s soul, she had gotten her first kiss with the Goliath she yearns for and it had been perfect. But like all things we want, it is so easy to become addicted to them....

 


	11. Chapter 11

Her cheek slams agains the hard wood of the bedroom door, her hands splaying out to brace herself. Yvette’s breath is heavy as Grog’s large body presses up against her tiny back, grinding her into the wall as he kisses down her neck from behind hungrily. Her head falls backwards onto his scarred chest as mighty, calloused hands roam and tug at her belt with growing need, stripping it away and heaving her pants downwards until they pool with her underclothes just under her shaking knees. He sucks on her neck, tasting her sweet flesh and watching her melt into his hold. He felt powerful.

“Husba-Grog...!” She pleads to him, dizzy and hot. Her heart ached terribly.

He forces her head to turn over her shoulder and kiss his chapped lips with a low rumble of want, his voice is thick and wolf like through their shared, desperate touch. 

Grogs blood was pumping loud in his own ears, pants unbearably tight.

“Spread them.” The demand is followed by a strong pull of her thighs as the big Goliath forces her trembling legs apart as far as her pants would allow. She moans into his hungry lips and those big, forceful hands are suddenly stroking her entrance playfully. Thick fingers rubbing and pawing just hard enough to send shivers down her spine and make her want to beg. Skilled he was it seemed, a sudden rush rising and prickling over her red stained flesh. She was about to have sex with him, her beloved. For her first time, her first real time. She was in control of herself, she was present and this was happening. It was just the two of them in this moment and Yvette’s heart is full.

Gods...she could almost faint. 

Yvette shutters, electricity buzzing all over her tiny body with excitement and anticipation as his mighty fingers spread her wet lower lips apart playfully. She closes her big eyes tight, tears pricking and stinging them. She was so damn happy and oh so guilty. She wanted him so badly, but it was so...wrong. Was any of this even the slightest bit ok? Of course it wasn’t, love making to any man that was not your husband was a grave dishonour in the Barron-Boar tribe. To be deflowered before marriage was to be doomed to be alone forever, wanted by no man. At this point, it didn’t matter she supposed, she was not going home....

Marriage was no longer an option for her anyway, she was Griefheart now. Divorced. Unworthy and unable to keep her past husband.

“Ahhh!” The blond, small elf cries out it surprise and pleasure, jolting in the Goliaths iron grasp as Grog’s impressive manhood slips teasingly through her legs. He rubs against her quivering, wet entrance teasingly, enjoying the friction and pushing her hard against the door. His fingers still seperate her, but he does not enter, not yet. He likes the way her tiny elf body makes his already large cock look so much larger and he has to bite back a smug chuckle. 

In her haze she had not heard the big barbarian remove his battle leathers, but here they stand, pressed flush against each other, this mountain of a man looming behind her and groaning with muted pleasure with every snap of his hips. Playing with her.

He rubs against her hot entrance, back and forth and enjoying the sound of her fastening breath. The way it hitch’s with anticipation when he gets close to entering her for real, the way her fingers are curling on the door, nails scrapping helplessly or the way she pulls away from their deep passionate kiss to bite her lip with want. Her cheeks and ears are pink.

Beautiful. It made his heart grow large with unexplained emotion. Desire. 

Yvette can’t take it anymore, her heart was about to explode in her fast beating chest at this rate. Against the door she slides downwards as far as she could, bending forward for him and pushing back on his pelvis invitingly. Legs spread and forehead pressed against the hard wood door.

“Please...just...please..” She begs him now, voice a breathless whisper that was so sexy that Grog could barley hold back any longer.

“Mmmmmm” His deep voice rumbles in her pointed ear approvingly. “Tell me.” His demand is cruel and rightfully so, she does not deserve his touch or his love. He was mad at her still, unforgiving and completely in control of her broken, guilty soul. 

“Tell me wot ya want. Beg for it.” A strong, calloused palm slides away from her entrance and up under her tunic, tracing up her stomach and dancing just below her breasts. Holding her still easily with one half giant hand, still rubbing against her hole painfully slowly with his own throbbing cock. 

He was quietly proud of his own amazing restraint. Recent betrayal was one hell of a drug. 

Yvette shutters. Her voice is quiet and embarrassing shy in a familiar way he likes. 

“Uhhh...please I.... want-

“Louder!” He roars with thunderous intent, slamming against her hard he feels her quiver and stifle a moan. He feels powerful, his barbarian blood boiling. 

“Please Husband!” She shouts against wooden door, voice far too loud she fills the small chamber. Face red and eyes screwed shut. “Please make me yours! Hold me, make love to me! Please!” She begs him, her heart beating hard, hating how weak she was to him. She love this man. This stupid, stupid, perfect man.

A broad smile erupts across his bearded face, the triumph and lust all too much to contain any longer. With a battle-cry like roar he answers her demands all too happily. 

“Ahhh!” Yvette can’t, she holds onto the door for dear life as he sheaths his massive manhood inside her quivering entrance to the hilt with one big thrust. Filling her completely her legs shake with loosing strength, buckling.

“Mmmhhh!” With a rough groan of pleasure Grog pulls out almost completely before he pushes back inside her hard, that wayward hand reaching to grasp her tiny breasts now. He feels her stifle a small scream, her vaginal muscles contracting around him frantically as she wills herself so desperately to relax. Gods it was hard, he was just so big! Her breath is uneven and strained as he drags himself out of her painfully slowly and renters her once again, testing her thin resolve.

“Agghhhh..” She half moans, half cries through clenched teeth and shaking shoulders. Cheeks wet and nails scratching long marks into the old door. He waits for her to adjust, for her tiny legs to stop spamming so violently before he dared continue. He didn’t forgive her but he didn’t want to break her either. This was their first time all over again and this time she wasn’t that fierce ball of fire laying on her back and demanding his cock punish her into the bed sheets. No.

She was shy, ashamed and her voice laced with love for only him. The way she can’t look at him, face red and the way she chants his name under heavy breath like she’s begging for mercy was so different from the other stormy night.

He begins to move. 

She was impossibly tight around him still, wet and hot it felt like heaven and it didn’t take long until the mighty half giant was building up steam and rhythm inside her; thrusting into her hard and fast. Quickly his barbarian lust starts to consume his fragile control.

“Ahh...husb-ahh!” Moans grow steadily louder and desperate as they spill from her wet, parted lips. Yvette’s body beginning to thum with a fast building pleasure, she had never felt this way before. “Hhaa...aahh...mmhh!” 

It stung. He was far too large and her wet hole was stretching to accommodate such size. But she didn’t mind in the slightest, she felt full and despite the pain, pleasure runs up her spine like fire. His hands on her are tight and rough but she likes the way they hold her so firmly. His voice is heavy and his groans are mixed with hot uneven breath that brushes across the back of her neck, making her weak.Body large and solid as he bends over behind her to get deeper inside her then before.

“Nnnnhh!” 

Oh gods! Oh wow!

Grog likes when she moans loud for him, it fills him with desire to go harder and faster. His large hand snakes past her soft little breasts to wrap around her thin throat, ignoring the silver chain he squeezes down around her and she moans with terrified pleasure. A rush of danger makes her body feel sensitive around him.

“G-Grog....ahh!” Begging.

The room is far too hot, the fire sweltering them as they pant and sweat together hard, the sounds of their sex fill the chamber and mix with their strained voices. It’s hardly romantic or sensual, this was pure lust.

Need .

To finished what they had started, together. 

“Aaghhh...hhhm!”

Grog growls, his pleasure building like a white hot coil in the pit of his stomach. With a mighty display of barbarian strength he lifts the small panting elf. Still thrusting into her hard his pace does not slow as he stands upright pushes her tiny clothed back into his broad chest and fucks up into her with increased ferocity. His grip around her throat tightening dangerously he kisses the shell of her ear, breathing in the flowery scent of her blond hair. She whimpers in pleasure.

“Mmmhh.....mmhh..”

Yvette gurgles a stifled moan of pleasure, her windpipe terrifyingly close to being crushed by this man. But gods it felt good! Fear runs through her veins as she gasps for air but it’s exactly what she needs, her body quakes as the pleasure and pain becomes all to much. He was too big, too deep inside her.

“Agghhhh!”

The sound of their sweating, heaving bodies is drowned out by her strangled, gurgling scream of pleasure as she hits her orgasim with such blinding intensity that her vision blacks out for a moment. Her back aches into him, hands desperately reaching back to grip onto his thick thighs for support as her body is set alight with such overwhelming pleasure. Her toes curl in her boots.

“Agghhmmmmm!” Grog’s thick fingers slide up her constricted throat and force their way past her wet lips and into her mouth, silencing her moans of pleasure. Dominating and making her submit to him. He loves the way she caves into his touch, sucking instinctively on the digits invading her airways. To please him.

His thrusts come faster still as he begins to reach his own limit in her leg trembling wake. A wave of impossibly hot pleasure shooting through him as her sex tightens around him with her trembling, screaming climax.

The half giant slips off the edge after her, grunting loudly into her flowery hair he spills himself inside her and rides out his own pleasure with uneven, desperate thrusts. 

He removes his fingers from her tongue and instead kisses her mouth hard and deep, hungrily consuming her sweet taste as he begins to slow his ministrations inside her before finally coming to a slow halt. Spent.

They are both breathing hard, heaving in the hot air around them desperately just to stay conscious, their skin tingling and insides alight with satisfaction. Wow.

Grog drops his close hold on the tiny elf and pulls out of her slowly. Yvette braces herself against the door once more, heart beating hard and legs like jelly. Wow! She felt like she was about to collapse. Nothing in her whole life had made her feel like THAT! She keeps her eyes shut and feels the cool wood against her skin, palms tracing the wood grain.

“You ok?” Grog voice is strangely tentative as he wets his own fingers and comes to stand behind her once more. The blond can barley speak, but manages a shaky nod, eyes still shut tight. Skin buzzing.

He reaches between her trembling legs and wipes her abused opening slowly, catching any of his escaping seed and cleaning her the best he could. 

“Good....” 

There is silence. She hears him move away from her, adjusting himself. 

Taking a deep, calming breath she opens her eyes, she wasn’t crying any longer.

Regret settles like a stone in her chest. 

Eventually her strength returns enough for her to move without fear of loosing her balance and toppling to the stone floor. Straightening herself, Yvette redresses slowly, buckling her belted pants with a red stained face, embarrassed. She can feel Grog’s heated stare burning into her back, watching her silently, waiting perhaps. 

“...I need to go...” Barley a whisper but it hangs in the air between them, sad and regretful. She did need to go, she should not have lingered like this. 

The golden elf turns to look at the big barbarian man with a small smile, so embarrassingly in love that it hurts her chest. Yes, she should go. 

The Goliath throws her the bearskin travel pack in response, which she catches easily. 

“ ‘s fine...get going.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, just crosses his muscular arms and watches her with an unreadable expression. Like a test, perhaps. 

It didn’t matter, she had run out of time. 

Yvette picks up her discarded cloak and with a grave of the heavy door she walks out of the chamber, entering the halls of Whitestone Castle. She dares not to look back at him, eyes forward to the future she steels her heart. 

 

...

 

Yvette finds Percy and Vex easily, they seem to have taken to having a rather polite afternoon tea in the grand opening hall of the castle. No doubt waiting to catch her on her way out, informed by Pike that there was a chance she would leave. The golden elf braces for cold expressions, bared teeth and weapons accompanied by dozens of guards. To be abused and harshly treated, rightfully she might add. She hurt these people, she deserves no forgiveness but only pure hatred. Hatred that did not come. 

No. 

Instead Vex stands and hugs her warmly when she approaches. The white haired man smiles in her direction. Yvette apologises wholeheartedly to them both and they forgive her far to quickly. These people who she barely knew showed her such raw, understanding compassion that she feels lost. They don’t scream or kick her out the front doors. They just smile and their eyes show so much experience with the harsh world that perhaps her horrid actions and the harrowing experiences of the past week had not shaken them as badly as she had first thought. Of course not, these people were adventurous of the highest sort, they have seen things far worse then her she was sure. The thought gives her little comfort, but still, she owed them her life. Her soul. They had saved her from an evil so terrible and maddening that she truly could thank them enough. She does, she thanks them with stinging eyes over and over again. She had nothing to give them to show her gratitude, she feels oh so guiltily. 

They give her gold. 20 gold for her travels and Yvette bites back her emotional voice, fighting hard to smile and thank them for being quiet possibly the most remarkable people she had ever met. 

They exchange pleasantries, saying goodbye and wishing each other luck for the future as Vex walks her down the mighty stone steps. The Elfish lass matches their kind smiles the best they could, humouring their idle request that she come back again.

She would never. She could not, her heart couldn’t take such abuse. 

They reach the last step, just the two of them and Vex turns to the shorter elf slowly.

“Be safe dear. Are you sure I can’t organise you an escort? A horse?”

Yvette shakes her head. “No, you’ve done more than enough for me already. Thank you....Vex.” 

The ranger looks dissatisfied but does not push the issue. Yvette is thankful, turning to leave.

A queer look flashed across her half elvan face and she chews on her lip. 

“Uhh...I’ll look after him!” Vex declares after the blond awkwardly. “Grog.” She clarifies but there was no need to, they both knew who. Far atop the castle steps some distance away now, Percy is joined by the large barbarian in question to watch her go silently. 

Her heart hurts.

“He’s big and stupid but he’s my family, I’ll look after him.” She was confidant and kind, Yvette believed her. 

The expression hidden behind the rangers eyes was understanding, so deep and pure that Yvette couldn’t hold her gaze for long. 

I understand your love.

I understand your heartbreak.

I’m sorry.

Yvette thanks her quietly and with one final wave the elvan woman begins her descent from the castle towards Whitestone Town and the woodlands beyond. Her heart breaking, eyes still stinging terribly.

 

The woods are thick, lush and an inviting deep green. The trees smell of pine and snow and were welcoming to a tribes woman like herself when she enters. It is familiar. Quiet and serene they spread out wide around the city, stretching for countless miles towards the snowy mountains beyond. Yvette follows the sun and walks for barley long enough to leave Whitestone in her wake.

With the city out of sight and her thoughts her own she finally gives into her sorrow. She falls to her knees amongst the pine needle covered earth and weeps. She cries thick, hot tears and covers her mouth to silence her wails and heaving breaths. Her tiny shoulders quake with raw emotion, she can’t stop this overwhelming feeling of sadness and heartache that consumes her saved soul. It was over, wasn’t it? 

She had everything she had ever wanted since a girl for only a few weeks before a monster had stole her happiness away from her. Like monsters do. 

Now she has nothing. There is no happiness left in her body. 

Her name was now Yvette Griefheart and she had nothing. She had no husband. She had no tribe. She had no future. 

No happiness. Nothing. 

She presses her palms to her chest as she weeps, fingers twisting into the thick fabric of her tunic and feeling the comforting warmth of the silver amulet against her straining, ruined heart. Clenching her teeth and screaming out to the heavens she is doubling over in sorrow on the wet ground. 

 

Nothing.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!   
> :D


End file.
